Paper Flowers
by oldprydefan
Summary: A tale of Soulswords, Diaries, love, friendships, and connections. Kitty Pryde and Peter (Piotr) Rasputin. Ch 18 up. Rachel and Illyana's reactions to everything that's happening, the identity of that person Kitty was hugging in the graveyard.
1. Going Under

Disclaimer: X-Men. Not mine. Making no money. Just torturing them for fun, much as 

Marvel does.

Note: I've played with contunity a bit and brought back at least one person Marvel killed off, 

so I suppose this could be considered AU. This will be rated R for possible disturbing

imagery, sexual content, and dark, depressing angst.

Takes place loosely after death of Moira McTaggert, before and during time X-Treme 

X-Men team leaves the mansion. This will be Kitty/Peter fic eventually.

**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 1 – Going Under **

She couldn't sleep. 

God knows, she'd tried, but it was useless. It was one of those nights, seemingly more and more frequent of late, when the dead couldn't rest and neither could she. 

Tonight, there was one more in their number and she 

wondered what others would join the group before it ended. 

_It will never end._

She resolutely ignored the seductive little voice in her head, as she had done so many times before, refusing to acknowledge it's snide, devious little comments as it tried to play on her fears and sorrows.

Throwing back the covers, she sat up, swinging her long, slender legs over the side of the bed and slipping her feet into her slippers as she stood.

If she stayed in bed, tried to force herself to sleep, it would only make things worse. She'd begin seeing their faces all around her, the empty spaces where they should have been, and she'd lose her ability to function, the walls would come down, and the resultant flood would sweep her away. 

Better to do something productive, get out of bed and work off some energy, try to burn out the memories. At least for a little while. 

_But, sooner or later, they will come back. They always come back. _

The voice whispered in her ear, trying to tempt her, break her, but still she pretended not to hear.

Downstairs. The Danger Room. She could go there, forget for a while, or try to.

Anything was better than sitting here, in the dark, talking to the ghosts of the past. That never did her, nor them, any good.

So, rummaging around in her closet, she pulled out a set of green leotards and a pair of scruffy, worn ballet slippers. Not exactly fighting gear, but it would do.

_You are_ _always fighting. Aren't you tired of fighting? I can make it better. I can make it all go away. You know I can._

**_NO!_ **

She cried out in her mind, trying to chase it away. Each time it was more difficult. Each time, the temptation to give in grew stronger.

And the voice was right. She was tired of fighting. Tonight, though, she wouldn't fight.

Tonight, she would dance.

******************************************************************************

In this way, Katherine Pryde, known to her friends as Kitty, known to the world as Shadowcat, found herself in the control booth of the Danger Room at 3:00 am, programming a dance sequence.

_**Well, at least I won't have to worry about being interrupted**, _she told herself as she slipped a disk into the rooms CD changer and set it on repeat. 

With the program set and ready to go, she didn't bother with the door, phasing straight through the floor of the control booth and air walking down to the bare room far below.

As soon as her feet made solid contact with the floor, the room shimmered to life, the blank metal walls and floors replaced by a typical dance studio with mirrored wall, a barre, and polished hardwood floor. 

The music began automatically as well, and the lithe Shadowcat began a series of warm-up exercises, bending, stretching, flexing until she was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Then, she began in earnest.

She let the music flow over her, into her. It had been too long. There was never a reason to dance anymore. Only to fight. And die.

The steps were mostly classical ballet. The music was anything but. Kitty had purposely picked the CD for the hard, driving beat beat of drums and steel guitar, and the words,- a little dark, a little depressing, a little angry- fit her mood perfectly. 

Jumping, twirling, spinning, she pushed herself as hard as she could, eventually mixing in a little modern dance when she got bored with ballet. She'd studied under the best, and it showed. If things had been different, she might have been a dancer. Or the female Bill Gates. Or just an ordinary college student. 

Those ideas were so completely foreign to her, Kitty really couldn't even wrap her mind around the concepts. There wasn't time in her life to be a college student, and she was anything but ordinary. She would never be ordinary again, for as long as she lived. 

Catching sight of her reflection in the wall of mirrors, Kitty didn't see the grace, the fluidity of movement, the beauty of the dance. All she saw were the pale reflections of fighting moves, set to music. It seemed that even the pleasure she used to take in this one small remainder of her life **before** had deserted her.

Once, she had been young, full of life, excited with each new day that came, impatient to see what new adventure would come her way. This life she was now living had seemed thrilling and romantic, a true life fairy tale. Only, she wouldn't be the damsel in distress, she would be the hero. She would save the world.

And she had. More than once. 

Problem was, the world, or at least some part of it, always seemed to need saving. There was no end to it, no rest. It went on and on endlessly and they never seemed to make a dent, never seemed to make a difference. They fought and died, sacrificed their lives, sometimes their very souls, in so many ways, to protect a world that hated them.

Once, she had been young. Now, at 23, she felt old. And tired. And used up. If she told the truth, if she dared admit it, even to herself, all she wanted was an end to it. In whatever way might come swiftest.

It terrified her. 

And all around her, the faces of the dead, watching, waiting.

The Dream had become a nightmare and she couldn't wake up.


	2. Reaching the Bottom

**Disclaimer**: X-Men. Not mine. Making no money. Just torturing them for fun, much as Marvel does.

**Note**: I've played with contunity a bit and brought back at least one person Marvel killed off, (Right. Like Marvel's never done _that_ before.) so I suppose this could be considered AU. This will be rated R for possible disturbing imagery, sexual content, and dark, depressing angst.

Takes place loosely after death of Moira McTaggert, before and during time X-Treme X-Men team leaves the mansion. This will be Kitty/Peter fic eventually.

**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 2 – Reaching the Bottom**

He had not come to spy on her. Truly. She would never believe him, but he had only come down here to kill time. How could he have known she would be here?

Without a thought of checking to see if the room was in use this time of night, or morning, he had simply opened the door and walked inside. And there she was, and he had not been able to tear his eyes away from her. 

It had been a very, very long time since he had seen her dance. He had forgotten how truly talented she was, her movements flowing gracefully into one another as she seemed to float across the floor. Long, slender legs moved with a fluid grace, arms gliding gently, naturally, from one position to another as she swayed, turned, piouretted in time to the driving beat of the music. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the floor, as if she were dancing on air.

Perhaps she was.

Once, it seemed so long ago, she had loved to dance, had done so often, to the very music of life itself. Her bright, bubbly, cheerful nature had captivated everyone around her. She had brimmed with live and love and joy. But time and circumstance had seemingly destroyed that part of her.

She had come to them a gawky, barely teenager, full of enthusiasm, hopes, and dreams. 

He'd been there that first day, and for many days after, watching her grow and change.

The skinny, doe-eyed, bubbly girl had grown into a slender, lovely woman, with a cascade of thick chestnut hair and big golden eyes that held the mysteries of her soul. He had watched it happen, day by day, but had gotten so caught up in his own life, his own problems, that he had not really **seen **until it was too late. 

They had been friends, once. 

No. They had been more than that. Much more. But they had both been only children and, what she had offered him freely, wholeheartedly, he had thrown away without a second thought. 

She had handed him her heart and he handed it back to her, broken into a million pieces, and gone on his merry way without a backward glance. 

Being who she was, in time, she had forgiven him and they managed to salvage a friendship from the wreckage. Until he had succeeded in utterly destroying that as well. There is only so much any one person can forgive.

He had crossed that line with her carelessly, time and time again, believing in his stupidity, that she would always forgive him, always take him back. In his childish arrogance, he had seen her as someone he could always come back to, the one person who would always wait for him, no matter how much he hurt her, no matter how many times he rejected her.

There were no words for the kind of fool he had been.

Though he had loved her all along, he never told her. Not when it mattered, when it could have made a difference. Not until it had been much too late.

Kitty was no longer the happy, bubbly, eternally optimistic girl she once was. She probably never would be again. The life they led eventually leeched the joy of life from a person. It had happened to nearly everyone he knew, himself included. He had nearly let it destroy him, had allowed it to destroy everything he held dear in his life and he knew there was no way to get it all back.

He had been down the road she was about to travel, could read the signs. She was going down the same path he had taken, slowly but surely. It was eating her alive, from the inside out, the consequences of this life they lived.

It was in the way she sat silently over breakfast every morning, the way she rarely left the premises unless it was on a mission, and in the way she was steadily pushing everyone who had ever been close to her farther and farther away. 

It was even in the way she was dancing right now. Not with the joy and sheer love of movement she once possessed, but with grim determination, as if the piece was a foe she must conquer at all costs. 

These days, she rarely laughed, seldom smiled. It had been so long since he had seen her happy. Not since leaving Scotland. 

No. Even before then.

He missed her innocent laughter, he gentle teasing, her endless exuberance and curiosity. They all did. But he did not know how to bring it back, to bring her back. 

Peter Rasputin leaned quietly against the wall, just inside the Danger Room door, watching the love of his life try to purge her soul by dancing her demons away, and prayed to a god he wasn't even sure he believed in for guidance, for a way to detour her from her own self-destruction. 

She was in trouble, he knew that. What he did not know was how to help her. Or even if she would let him. But he wanted to try. He did not want to see her descend into her own private hell, did not want to see her slowly drown in the pit of her own despair and regret, as he himself had done.

Yes, he had heard the news that had come today, they all had, and had known the effect it would have on her. One more funeral, one more loss, in what seemed an endless stream. One more life cut short in pursuit of what was, more and more, becoming a lost cause.

How much more could any of them take? How many more could they afford to lose before it was enough? Who would be the next to lay down their life, their soul, for The Dream? Each year, the list grew, getting longer and longer, with no discernible benefits to balance it all out.

Had not each and every one of them given enough already? There was not one of them left who had not been touched by tragedy. Should they have to sacrifice everything, their lives, their families, every hope and dream they ever had, for this one cause, for this one man's dream?

Was it not time to step back, look at the situation, at the cost of what they were doing, and perhaps re-evaluate the sanity of continuing as they were?

Perhaps, it was time for one Dream to end so that others could begin.

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A/N: Yes, I realize the first chapters are rather short. The next one probably will be, too, but they will get longer as everything unfolds and we get inside everyone's head. If the spacing is weird, I apologize. My word processing program and ff.net are not seeing eye to eye. Please review. It motivates my life.


	3. Don't Believe

**Disclaimer: X-Men are not mine. They belong to Marvel, whose done some truly bizarre thing with them. This is done strictly for fun** **and I'm making no money. Seriously hope you didn't think I was.**

**Paper Flowers**

Chapter 3 – Don't Believe

_**Well, hell. Looks like the whole flamin' house is up walkin' around tonight.**_

He'd come in here looking for a late night/early morning workout in peace and quiet, away from the rest of the general hubbub that was normal daily life in the land of communal living. Instead, he'd found what seemed like half the population of the damned house in the Danger Room at 4:00 am. Not exactly what he was expecting.

" 'Lo, 'Roro. Yer up late."

The exotic, white-haired woman turned to him briefly, her startlingly pale blue eyes peering out at him from a face the color of cafe-au-lait, as she nodded a greeting.

"Hello, Logan. What brings you in here at such an hour?"

"I could ask you the same question."

Ororo Munroe sighed, returning her attention to the wide glass front of the booth and the scene below. 

"I could not sleep. I thought to perhaps run an exercise session, but it seems the room is already occupied."

"Yeah, insomnia seems to be makin' the rounds tonight. Had a touch of it myself. Seems like the Cat and the Russkie did too."

As he strolled over to stand beside her, observing the young woman below them, Storm turned to him, her face creased in fatigue and concern. 

"I am worried about her, Logan."

The gruff Canadian didn't have to ask who or why. He knew. He had the same concerns. 

He was silent for a moment, watching Kitty dance as if all the devils of hell were on her tail. Tonight, she danced like she fought, quick, hard, brutal. It wasn't right, it wasn't her.

Logan remembered the slim, teenage girl who used to, literally, dance on air, laughing and twirling gracefully, full of such passion for life, such spirit.

What had happened? When had the laughter died and the anger, the rage, taken over?

There was something there, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It had been bugging him for the last several weeks, every time he was around her, but it was so subtle it was eluding even his keen senses.

Almost. Something was different with Kitty. Eventually, he would discover what it was.

"I think we got reason to be. Somethin's not right with her. Everybody can see it."

"She is taking Moira's death much harder than I would have expected." Her face, her voice, betrayed no emotion what so ever, but inside she hurt. It was there, easily read in the depths of her crystal blue eyes with the barely discernible dark smudges of fatigue underneath. Others would miss it, but he knew this woman far too well, and for far too long, not to pick up on it. "Have you tried to speak with her?"

"Tried earlier today." he confirmed, leaning his hip against one of the consoles as he spoke. "She just brushed me off. Said she was fine, she could handle it. The kid ain't fine, 'Ro. I don't think she's been fine fer a while now."

Her eyes still glued to the rapidly moving figure in the Danger Room, she didn't turn her head as she spoke.

"She did the same to me. It is as if she's closed herself off from everyone, from her friends, her family. Trying to talk with her now...it is almost like talking to a stranger."

The short, dark-haired Canadian simply shrugged his shoulders, a conservative, barely perceptible movement of his stocky frame. His dark, nearly black eyes, narrowed as his sharp gaze continued to follow the young woman in the room below. 

"Kit's lost more'n most o' the rest of us put together. Friends, lovers, family. Shit like that happens enough, it takes a toll." For a moment he turned to Ororo, his dark eyes intense, before his gaze moved pointedly to the large form of Peter Rasputin, standing in the shadows of the room below. "We've seen it happen before."

Ororo Munroe, Storm, shivered involuntarily as she followed the direction of his eyes. Not from cold, but from the memories that Logan's words invoked. Dark memories of a time when a man she considered as her own brother seemed to self-destruct before her eyes. Memories of watching helplessly as he turned his back on everyone and everything he'd ever believed in, nearly losing his mind, as well as his soul, in the process.

"Surely, Logan, you cannot think Kitty...?" Her voice trailed off uncertainly, as she shook her head, silver/white hair flying about her shoulders. "But she has always been so strong. Always so much stronger than Peter, stronger than so many of us. "

Wolverine snorted. To him, it sounded like Ororo was trying to convince herself as much as anyone. "Even the strongest link in the chain has a breakin' point, Darlin'."

"I cannot believe that she will not recover herself, that spark of light, and life, and love, that used to burn so brightly within her, given time and the love and support of her friends." The idea that the girl-no, Storm corrected herself, the young woman-she considered a surrogate daughter might not prove as resilient as always, might not continue to bounce back from every blow life dealt her, that she might, instead, be sliding gradually into some kind of breakdown, was more than the regal African woman could bear. 

The girl was strong. Time and again, she had proven her strength, both figuratively and literally. She had come through worse and she would come through this. Ororo had to believe that. To believe otherwise would mean she had failed one of the people dearest to her heart.

Even in profile, Logan could see the emotions playing across Storm's face, could practically read her thoughts as they flew through her head. 

**_Denial, it's not just a river in Egypt, _**he mused, somewhat uncharitably. Storm, he knew, wouldn't let herself see the truth. She was doing the same thing with Kit that she'd done with Peter. Ignore the problem and hope it'll go away. It hadn't worked then, it wouldn't work now. 

He hadn't been around much when things really started going bad for Petey, had been too busy dealing with his own troubles to understand just how wrong things had gone, until it was far too late. That failure still rankled. 

It would not happen to his Kit. He wouldn't let it. Despite what anyone else believed, Logan knew trouble was coming. He could practically smell it on the wind. 

Let 'Ro think what she wanted, he knew the truth and, this time, he swore he'd be more prepared.

Deciding further discussion on Kitty's behavior would be pointless, Logan dropped the current topic and changed tack. "So, decided when yer bunch is pullin' out?"

With a sigh, Ororo turned her attention to Logan and away from Kitty. "Sometime after Moira's memorial service. Probably within the next week." 

"What about the kids?" He jerked his head in the direction of the Danger Room and Ororo's gaze briefly followed before she shook her head slowly.

"No. Peter is not suited to what we will be doing, the type of life we will be living."

"And Kit? Ya can't tell me she's not suited to it. And I'd say her and Tessa'd make quite a pair. Hell, they already worked up those transmitter glasses, or whatever the hell ya call 'em."

But, again, Storm shook her head, looking slightly uncomfortable as her gaze slid back to the lithe form still pushing herself across the floor below.

"Perhaps, if things were different, but I believe Kitty is better off here for the moment. She needs time to let things settle." Her eyes automatically shifted to Peter, still leaning near the door, his own gaze never wavering from the young woman in the room with him. "Time to let her friends help her through this difficult time."

Logan saw where she was looking, knew what she was thinking, and briefly considered simply strangling the woman. Or at least cuffing her a good one to try and knock some sense into her. Or just laughing outright. Rasputin was the last person on earth to be giving anyone advice on personal problems.

"I ain't buyin' that, 'Ro. Ya damn well know better. It don't matter what you want for her, or what Petey wants for her. Chances are, it ain't gonna happen." He gestured broadly toward the room outside the control booth, his irritation getting the better of him. It was an old argument and high time, in his opinion, the stubborn woman gave it a rest. "They've had years on the same teams together, she gave him chance after chance and he threw 'em back in her face. Why should she give him another shot at breakin' her heart?" 

As the feral Canadian practically growled out the words, Ororo Munroe drew herself up to her full height, clothing herself in a regal demeanor, pale blue eyes flashing sparks of irritation.

"I am well aware of Peter's past actions as, I assure you, is he," she stated icily. "But that should not necessarily mean he does not deserve another chance."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Logan leaned back against the console, legs crossed at the ankles, not saying a word, as she stared back at him defiantly. He wasn't going to give in, wasn't going to agree with her. Both of those kids were like family to him, but if they were gonna pick sides, he knew which one he'd be on.

None of the others had taken the pain of a broken-hearted fourteen year old girl seriously. Puppy love, they said. She'll get over it in short order. Yeah, well, she hadn't and it had been him, not any of the others, who'd gone after her in Japan, who'd seen what Ogun did to her, who'd watched her struggle and claw her way back from that living nightmare. 

All of that, and more, Logan laid directly at Peter Rasputin's feet. He might be able to forgive the boy, put it down to the inexperience of youth and some really rough breaks, but that didn't mean he'd forget. 

The silent contest of wills continued for several moments, neither willing to give in. Finally, it was Ororo who dropped her eyes, all the fight draining out of her as she pulled over a chair and sat down tiredly.

"Logan, I have neither the desire, nor the energy, to debate this with you, yet again. I doubt we will ever see eye to eye on the matter in any event." 

"Fine with me, Darlin', but you still ain't answered my question. Why ain't you takin' Kit? Might be just the thing for her, get her away from here for a while, give her something to focus on besides this nut house." 

Her eyes dropped for a moment, her brow furrowed, in thought or concern. He wasn't sure which.

"Very well." When she raised her head, Logan caught a variety of emotions flickering across her face. "Things between Kitty and I have been...strained...ever since Dallas. And, lately, it has only gotten worse. Some of her mood swings....They are almost frightening. I believe she needs to work through these problems before joining us on a quest that will surely result in only greater stress."

Wolverine's eyebrows shot up and he wondered what had happened between Kitty and Storm that he didn't know about. Something in her voice told him that there was more here than she was actually willing to talk about right now. Before he could question her further, the elegant weather mutant rose from her chair and headed for the door.

"Since it appears that the Danger Room will not be free for a while, I believe I will return to bed and at least **try** to get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us."

Without waiting for a reply, she left, closing the door softly behind her. 

Logan turned back to cast one last glance at Kitty, seeing that she was slowing, moving into cool down exercises. She was just as tense, wound just as tight, as ever. Whatever was going on with her, he had a feeling she wasn't going to get rid of it with exercise. 

_**Yer gonna have to talk about it sometime, Punkin' . I ain't gonna sit by and watch you fall apart. I'll get to the bottom of this if it's the last thing I do.**_

  
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	4. Tormented

**Disclaimer: **Obviously, I'm making no money off this and the characters don't belong to me. If they did, Peter would still be alive, (and so would Betsy, Moira, Illyana, and Pete Wisdom. And Jean Grey would **stay **dead this time.), he and Kitty would be together, and I would allow her to be older than sixteen years old for the rest of her life. 

Thanks go to: Alex & Mysterious Fan Girl for the reviews. Hope you guys enjoy the next chapter.

Remember: Reviews make the author very happy. The only way we improve is through constructive critique. :)

**Chapter 4 - Tormented**

She was exhausted, sweaty, and absolutely, completely miserable. Her waist length hair, pulled back in a simple ponytail, was plastered to her head, her leotards drenched, her muscles quivering like a mass of so much gelatin. 

An hour and a half, going full tilt, pushing herself as hard as she could, and it had done nothing but bring her to the very edge of physical collapse. No matter what she did, it was never enough to clear her mind. All she wanted was a few minutes of peace, some time to think, a little quiet.

For the dying to **stop.**

_**Dear God. Moira. Gone.**_

Not to Legacy, as they all might have expected, but to an madwoman's bomb. She'd come so far, gotten so close to her goal, survived so much, only to have it ripped away by someone who didn't see the woman, the mother, the prize winning scientist, the friend. All Mystique had seen was another means to an end. 

And so, the bitch had killed her. Because of Destiny's damned diaries. The Libris Veratitus. The Books of Truth. Ha! 

The only truth she'd seen in them so far was their ability to drive everyone who possessed them mad. 

Kitty thought of the five Diaries Mystique had given Professor Xavier before they'd shipped her off to that prison hospital, of the one copy she, herself, had given Storm, and she shivered. Too much had been lost in the name of those Books. What more would they claim before it was over

Because of Irene Adler's diaries, Moira was dead. 

_**She was my friend. Like Doug, and Rachel, and Illyana, and Scott. And...oh, god...Pete. **_

Another friend lost. No chance to say goodbye. No closure. Just....gone. 

It made her wonder who would be next. There was always a next.

Would it be Kurt? Ororo? Logan ? Betsy? Rhane? Or maybe Peter, or Rogue?

Whose grave would she be standing over in another month, another week, another year? What shape would the next empty space in her life take? 

How would she bear it?

Kitty hadn't even been aware that she was crying, but the tears coursed down her cheeks in rivers as she finished her cool down exercises and collapsed to her knees on the floor. Unable to hold it all in any longer, she dropped her face down into her hands and wept silent, bitter tears.

_**I can't take it anymore. I can't. I just can't. I can't watch anymore friends die.**_

The words ran through her mind over and over again. A litany, almost like a prayer, against yet another blow to her fragile, crumbling world.

And, inside her head, the voice slithered, winding around the edges of her fraying mind, cajoling, seducing.

_I can make it better, make it all go away. You know that I can. _

As before, Kitty tried to ignore it, pretend she didn't hear. But it was persistent, wearing away at her, day by day, minute by minute.

_All you have to do is call to me. Reach out to me. We can make everything right again. Together._

Her shoulders shook, her body trembled with her grief, and she knew she was weakening.

_We belong together, you and I. Though you cast me aside, I forgive you. I will never leave you. _

_**Please. Oh, please. Just go away. Stop tormenting me. You can't help me. **_

_Oh, but I can. You only have to give me the chance. You need me as much as I need you._

Sweetly, seductively, it called to her, promising her everything she ever wanted, telling her that it could make everything all right. 

In her mind, Kitty could see it, dancing brightly, tempting her to reach for it.

And she wanted it. It would fit into her palm as if it were made for her. She could almost feel it, cool and solid and smooth, as her fingers curled around it. Oh, how she wanted to give in to the siren's song, reach out her hand and take it up.

Because it **could **make it all go away, could ease her pain, take away her sorrows. With one simple gesture on her part, it would all be over. 

All it would cost her was her soul.

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He had been standing there for a while. Exactly how long, he wasn't sure. How could she keep this pace up? She had to be exhausted.

Even as the thoughts ran through his mind, she slowed, beginning to wind down. Peter watched intently as she moved seamlessly into the cool down exercises they had all learned as some of their very first basic training with the X-Men. 

Long, dark chestnut locks curled every which way, damp with sweat. Waist length hair, like a cloud of chocolate silk, floated and swung with her movements around a delicate, heart-shaped face with high, prominent cheekbones, and large, luminous, slightly almond-shaped eyes. 

Her leotards clung to her even more closely than normal, drenched as they were from her exertions, delineating every line and curve of her slender, perfectly proportioned figure, her long, graceful, dancers' legs. 

She was an exceptionally lovely, though Peter knew she did not think of herself in those terms. Having grown up in the shadow of Ororo, Rogue, Jean, Betsy, and Rachel, all of them stunning, flamboyant creatures, Kitty had never given herself credit for her own delicate, serene, beauty. 

She had always been sensitive about her looks, and the young Russian mutant had never really understood it. To him, she was, and always had been by far, the fairest of them all.

The beauty was still there. Indeed, it had only intensified with age, but the serenity was gone. Now, her perpetual expression seemed to be anger, tinged with a heartbreaking sadness.

Moira's death had been yet another blow and it had hit her hard. The two had been close while Excalibur was based on Muir Island. Peter had often felt that the Scots doctor had looked on Kitty as another daughter.

They had been much alike, both strong and stubborn, with a fierce temper when angered, and just as fiercely loving and loyal to those they were close to. That they were both highly intelligent, though their interests resided in different fields, was just one more thing that they shared in common.

Thinking of Moira, who had been his friend as well, despite the many things he had done over the years that would have given her a perfect excuse to hate the very sight of him, Peter felt the sting of tears behind his eyes.

She had been a good woman, a good doctor, a good friend. The Scots doctor had devoted her life to helping the people of the world, mutants and humans alike. And her payment for that help was death at an assassin's hand. 

Mystique's hand. 

It simply was not right, not fair, that the shape-shifting murderer still be alive when Moira was dead, when Rhane was stripped of her powers and her mother, her world devastated.

But when had this life they lived ever been fair? To any of them?

Watching the young woman before him, seeing her pain, the man known as Colossus, the X-Men's powerhouse, the nearly indestructible Tin Soldier, felt his all-too-human heart crack.

_**I have lost too many who were friends. I have lost my entire family. Please...do not let me loose her as well. It would be more than I could possibly bear. **_

At that moment, Kitty turned in his general direction and he saw the tears flowing freely down her face, saw her fall to her knees, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed quietly. 

He was on the floor beside her before he even realized he'd crossed the room. She had to know he was there at this point, but she made no move, gave no sign to acknowledge his presence. Tentatively, he reached out one large hand, laying it gently on her shoulder.

"Katya...?" 

Peter never got a chance to say another word. Before he could react, before he could even register the movement, she whirled on him, knocking him flat on his back. It was pure blind luck that he saw the next blow coming in time to stop her. 

Time seemed to stand still as he lay there, her fist caught in his hand, Kitty kneeling over him, jaw clenched, battle ready, face a mask of barely leashed fury and and a horrible, desolate pain.

"Don't...touch...me." It was hissed out between gritted teeth, as she glared down at him and he blinked up at her, stunned. "Just leave me alone!"

As quickly as it had happened, Kitty was gone, running out of the Danger Room and leaving him sitting on the floor, dazed and confused, staring at the space where she'd been.

What on earth had just happened? 

Certainly she had been upset, distant, recently, and even more so the last few days, but this had been something totally different, a reaction completely out of proportion to anything short of an attack by an enemy.

Kitty had been far beyond upset. What he'd seen on her face had been a cold, lethal fury the likes of which he'd only seen in Wolverine. She had wanted to strike out at him, hurt him.

Her eyes had blazed with it. Literally.

For a split second, Peter could have sworn her eyes actually glowed red, tongues of flame leaping out of their dark golden depths. But, it had been there and gone so fast, he could not be sure. 

_**No. That is simply ridiculous. It had to be my imagination. **_

A cold weight settled in the pit of his stomach. 

_**Didn't it?**_

**********************************************************************************************************************

Kitty ran back to her room, phasing through walls, furniture, whatever got in her way, as if all the hounds of hell were on her heels.

Thankfully, there were very few people up and about this time of morning, but she still received more than one startled look. She paid them no mind. 

The very last thing she wanted right now was to attempt a conversation, to try and deflect her friends' worry and concern, yet again. It would only end in her lashing out at someone else.

Dear God. Had she just attacked Peter?

What was happening to her?

_**Silly question. You already know the answer, girl. You just won't admit it.**_

Not even slowing her stride, she phased straight through the door of her room, stopping once she was inside to make sure it was locked. 

She scrubbed her palms furiously across her eyes, futily trying to push away the tears that were still spilling down her cheeks as she struggled for control. This had to stop. 

Kitty felt as if she were losing her mind. 

_**Maybe I am. It would be so much easier that way.**_

Oh, but she knew better. That's what was so very frightening. Insanity would be imminently preferable to the fate that awaited her. 

She had made a horrible mistake, going into the Danger Room, thinking she could dance again, thinking there was any way to purge this horrible, consuming blackness inside her.

Believing anything could be like it used to be, even for a little while.

Not even bothering to take off her ballet slippers or change out of her sweaty leotards, Kitty curled up into a ball on top of her comforter, squeezing her eyes tightly closed., her slim body shaking and shivering, though it was far from cold in her room. 

_**Sleep. I need to get some sleep. I'll be better once I get some rest.**_

If she said it enough, maybe she could believe it. Maybe it would be true. 

_**********************************************************************************************************************_

Peter slowly made his way into the kitchen, not really expecting anyone else to be up and about quite yet, his mind still occupied with the mornings events in the Danger Room.

Surprisingly, he found Kurt already at the stove, putting together breakfast for himself and Rogue, who was seated at the large kitchen table, staring morosely into her coffee. In his experience, he had never found the Southern woman to be an early riser and he wondered what had managed to rouse her out of bed at this hour. 

"Ah...Guten Morgen, Peter." Kurt turned from the stove briefly, gesturing with the spatula he was holding to encourage the big Russian to enter, before turning back to his cooking. "Can I interest you in some scrambled eggs? Or, perhaps some bacon? "

Peter shook his head absently, heading straight for the coffee pot. 

"No, thank you, Kurt." Opening a cupboard, he took out a mug, filled it with coffee and sat down at the table across from Rogue. "I think coffee will be more than enough this morning."

The normally jovial elf was drooping visibly, Peter noticed, despite his obvious attempts to keep it from showing. Even his almost constantly active tail was limp and still. The days coming events were weighing heavily on everyone.

"Ja. I feel the same. I have no idea why I am cooking all this. I feel nauseous just looking at it."

"Busy work, fuzz ball. Just busy work." This from Rogue who, until now, Peter had been half convinced was actually asleep. "We all deal with it in our own way. You cook. Logan prowls 'round the grounds all night. Ah get up at the ungodly crack of dawn and stare at a cup of coffee." She turned slightly toward Peter, not really looking at him, as she nodded a greeting. "Mornin', Petey."

"Good morning, Rogue."

"Ah ain't really figured out what might be good about it, but if Ah do, Ah'll let ya know."

"I would appreciate it."

Silence reigned once again, the only sound the occasional pop and sizzle of the cooking food, or the clatter of Kurt's spatula against the pans. Peter joined Rogue in staring into his mug of coffee, occasionally twirling it slowly around in a circle on the table, but not really drinking any. 

He wasn't especially fond of coffee anyway.

His mind kept going back to Kitty, to what had happened in the Danger Room, trying to make sense out of something that he saw as completely senseless. He replayed each scene, picking through everything that had happened, trying to find a clue that would tell him why she had behaved in such a way. 

She had to have known he was there. Maybe not at the very first, but he knew her well enough to know that it would not have taken her more than a few seconds or so to register his presence. Logan had trained her too well for it to be otherwise. There was no way he could have surprised her, probably not even if he'd tried.

So, what could he have done, what could have been going on in her mind, that would cause her to react in that fashion?

And her eyes. Peter could not get that image out of his mind. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that he had actually seen that sudden, brief change of color, from golden brown to flame red. 

Even more disturbing was the feeling that it was familiar, that he had seen it before, in someone else. 

No matter how hard he tried, though, he could not get a handle on the memory. It skimmed at the very edge of his consciousness, refusing to let him get a firm hold on it. But that ball of cold, lead weight was still settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Petey?"

Rogue's voice brought him back to the present and he was surprised to find her staring at him, her forehead creased in what may have been puzzlement, concern, or simply her lingering bad humor at finding herself awake and out of bed at this time of morning.

"Hmmm? Da, Rogue, what is it?"

"What'd ya do to your eye?" Her green eyes were narrowed, apparently zeroed in on his left eye and he reached up reflexively to touch it.

"Why? What is wrong with it?"

Kurt, turning from the stove, a large platter overflowing with scrambled eggs and bacon clutched in one three-fingered hand, bent toward him to get a look for himself.

"Mein Gott, Peter. Have you been in a fight?"

"What are you talking about? Of course I have not been in a fight," he replied somewhat impatiently as he continued to probe the area around his left eye with his fingers, finding it somewhat tender to the touch.

"Well, whatever you've been up to, Sugah, ya got the beginnings of a real nice shiner going there."

"Shto?!"

Kurt set the platter down on the table as he took the chair next to Peter and proceeded to examine his bruised eye more closely.

"Rogue is right. I'm afraid you are going to have a rather prominent black eye." He pressed lightly at the rapidly purpling skin around Peter's left eye with one thick finger, causing his friend to wince. "Don't you remember how you did it? It must have happened very recently. The skin is just now beginning to discolor."

An image of Kitty whirling on him, striking out at him, flashed through his mind and Peter made a concerted effort to keep his face as blankly neutral as possible. Under no circumstances could he tell Kurt and Rogue what had happened. 

They would immediately, out of concern for her, go to Kitty and confront her about the incident and he had every idea that was the very worst thing that could happen right now. Besides, he wanted a chance to talk with her first, before anyone else became involved.

"I was in the Danger Room earlier. I...fell." Peter left it at that, unwilling to elaborate despite the odd looks he received from both Rogue and Nightcrawler.

"On your eye?" Rogue clearly wasn't buying into it.

"I must have accidentally hit myself in the eye." It was said in a way that made it clear he considered the matter closed and, after taking a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee, Peter went back to staring at the murky brown liquid.

**_Well, I will give him this. _**Kurt thought, raising his eyebrows slightly at Peter's assertion. **_He actually said it with a straight face._**

The German mutant had no idea what had caused Peter's injury, but he would bet his pointy, blue tail that it hadn't been falling in the Danger Room and hitting himself in the eye.

Peter might be a large man, but he was not, as a rule, clumsy. And he was acting rather peculiarly. It wasn't like Peter to be so reticent, but it was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it and just as obvious that there was more to it than he was letting on.

In the lingering silence, it quickly became apparent that their friend was not going to voluntarily elaborate upon the circumstances of his injury. Kurt's glowing, golden eyes briefly met Rogue's sea green ones across the table in silent question. 

She didn't look any more convinced than he was, and appeared just as puzzled, but he saw her shrug almost imperceptibly, a signal to let it go for now. The last thing any of them needed at the moment was more stress and grief.

Rogue reached across the table, ostensibly to lay her hand on Peters, but suddenly realized she wasn't wearing her gloves. So, she offered him a small smile instead, pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Ah'll just getcha somethin' for that eye. Maybe we can head off some'a the bruisin'." Going to the refrigerator, she opened the freezer compartment, reaching inside as she looked back over her shoulder at Peter. "If Ah didn't know ya better, boy, Ah'd swear one of the girls 'round here took at pop at ya."

Rogue was already turning back around, and didn't see Peter's unexpected reaction to her attempt at some mild humor, but Kurt did. Instead of lightening the somber mood, as she'd intended, Peter paled slightly and the fuzzy blue mutant's curiosity immediately deepened, mixed with a little concern.

Before Kurt had a chance to pursue this interesting new development, something sailed by his nose and Peter's hand automatically snagged it out of the air before it could hit him in the face. 

The big Russian mutant stared down at the package of frozen broccoli and cauliflower, then back up at Rogue, dark brows knit in confusion.

"Is this for my eye, or are we making lunch now?"

Rogue snorted, swatting at his hair on her way back to her chair. "Smart ass." She took the bag of frozen vegetables out of his hand and placed it, none too gently, over Peter's injured eye. "There. Now hold it up so it don't fall off."

Peter did as he was told as Kurt made a valiant effort not to laugh in his friends face. He was, however, not doing a very good job, if Peter's baleful, one-eyed glare was any indication.

"Was there not an ice pack in the freezer? I feel like an idiot."

Rogue shook her head, rolling her eyes, as Kurt made an odd strangled sound.

"Sorry, Petey. No ice packs. But, ah think there's a pack of frozen carrots, if you'd rather have another flavor. Or, Ah could always go wake up Bobby. Ah'm sure sure he'd be happy to ice up your head for ya."

Peter groaned, propped his elbow on the table and, still holding the frozen food against his injured eye, lowered his head in something like embarrassed resignation. Rogue, eyes twinkling and obviously much more awake now, raised her head and winked at Kurt. After that, he couldn't hold the laughter in any longer.

"Forgive me, mein freund," Kurt gasped out. "but you do look somewhat...how can I put this....interesting." This had Rogue's lips quivering as she tried to suppress her own mirth and Peter glaring at him again, the man's air of injured dignity sending him into a fresh fit of guffaws.

Finally, albeit reluctantly, the corners of Peter's mouth curved up slightly. At least his embarrassment had an up side. It had served to dissipate some of the lingering pall that had been hanging over the room , taking their minds off their troubles for the moment and putting everyone into a slightly better mood.

"What's so funny, Elf?", Wolverine inquired as he strolled into the kitchen, going directly to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. When he turned back around, Kurt just gestured toward Peter. 

Logan pulled out the chair next to Rogue, across from Nightcrawler, and glanced at Peter before taking a hefty swig of black coffee, his expression never changing. "Pete, ya mind telling me why yer wearin' frozen peas on yer head?"

"Broccoli," Peter corrected, automatically, as he continued to stare at the tabletop with his one good eye.

Rogue, who had just taken a sip of her lukewarm coffee, lost it at this point, spewing Sanka across the table and all over Kurt. This prompted a stream of German expletives from the startled teleporter, his automatic reaction being to leap up from the table to avoid the oncoming liquid, tipping his chair over with a loud crash in the process.

"Oh, Gawd! Kurt, Ah'm sorry." Rogue apologized as she collapsed into helpless laughter and Kurt ran around the kitchen grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess on the table as well as on himself.

Despite the ensuing chaos, all Peter could really manage was a half grin, while Logan remained stone-faced, regarding Peter with an inscrutable look.

"Ya gonna answer my question?"

The question was asked in the mildest of tones, but it was clear to Peter that Logan expected an answer.

"I had an accident in the Danger Room earlier."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Peter had no reason to believe that Kitty had done it on purpose. But he had an idea that Logan knew perfectly well it wasn't exactly the truth, either. It was extremely difficult to hide anything from a man who could, literally, smell the truth a mile away.

"That so? Tripped and landed on yer eye, did ya?"

There was no trace of humor in the question, no real inflection at all, but there was a subtle accusation in the words, none-the-less. Peter heaved a tired sigh, his heavily muscled chest rising and falling abruptly with the effort. 

"Logan, I have had very little sleep and not the best of mornings. I would prefer to talk about this later."

The boy did look pretty rough, Logan noted. Even without the bag of vegetables on his face. 

The gruff Canadian was smiling inwardly, trying not to let it show on the outside. He'd bet his claws that Rogue had been the one to sucker the kid into that one. 

_**Just as well. We could all use a little break after the last few days.**_

Kurt and Rogue were just finishing their cleanup detail and he knew that Peter wouldn't discuss this in front of them. Neither would Logan. Much as he might want to take pity on the boy, let it pass for now, he didn't much like the ideas running through his head and he wanted a straight answer from the kid.

"Sorry. No can do, Petey." He finished off the last of his coffee, eyed the plate of eggs and bacon indecisively for a moment, the slid his chair back and stood, pulling a stogie from his pocket. "I'm goin' out on the patio to have a smoke. When yer done here, why don't ya join me." 

It was obviously not a request. Thankfully, Rogue and Kurt seemed oblivious to the conversation between the room's other two occupants, being otherwise occupied with cleaning up after Rogue's coffee spewing episode. 

Peter waited until they were finished, both having wandered upstairs to shower and change for the flight to Scotland, before heading out the kitchen door after Logan, pausing along the way just long enough to throw his improvised ice pack back into the freezer.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Early Spring mornings in upstate New York tended to be cool and crisp, the air fresh and clean, chilling the lungs as it he breathed it in.

It was mornings like this one that always reminded Peter most of his home in Siberia, Russia, the Ust-Ordinsky collective farm where he lived as a child. That was why it had always been his favorite time of year. 

Any other morning, Piotr Nikolevitch Rasputin, more commonly called Peter by his - mostly - American friends and team mates, would have been up at sunrise and happily puttering around at some outside chore or project. Most likely, he would have been working in one of Ororo's many plant and flower beds, or out in the surrounding woods chopping down a tree for firewood to warm these cool mornings.

Not that they **needed** the wood for heat. There was a perfectly adequate heating and cooling system for the mansion, but they all enjoyed a nice, warm fire on cold nights and the accompanying chilly mornings. It had been a tradition since before he'd come here at the age of fifteen. 

He'd been horribly homesick at first, feeling extremely out of place in this country where everything was so completely different from what he was used to. It had been tempting to just give up and go back home, to a people and a life that felt familiar, safe.

But he'd stuck it out by sheer force of will and gained a second family in the process. 

Regardless of what he may have lost due to Charles Xavier and his Dream, Peter knew that he had gotten at least one priceless gift out of the deal. He had friends who understood him, a place that he could always call home, a family that would be there for him until the end, no matter what.

They had proven that. In his case, more than once. He owed these people more than he would ever be able to repay.

That didn't mean he wouldn't at least try, in every way he could. 

Regardless of his feelings for Kitty, or hers for him, he would do everything in his power to help her because, if nothing else, she was his team mate, part of his family.

But he did not want to have this conversation with Logan, who considered Kitty to be , for all intents and purposes, his daughter and especially not before he'd had a chance to talk with the young woman in question, face to face, and try to work it out between them.

Still, he would do it. It did not mean he had to like it. 

They sat on the back patio, mostly bare at this time of year except for the scant few chairs that had been left there through the winter, facing toward the sunrise. Their chairs were angled slightly toward one another, both men silent, Logan puffing intermittently on his cigar, Peter staring out toward the bright blaze of color just over the horizon. From long experience, he knew Logan would speak when he was ready, and not before.

"What happened?" Logan asked at length, his low, gruff voice carrying easily in the stillness of the early morning.

"I was having trouble sleeping so I went down to the Danger Room. Katya was there. She was dancing." He turned toward the shorter man sitting beside him. "I have not seen her dance in a very long time."

Logan nodded as their eyes met briefly. "Yeah, that much I already know. Me and 'Ro were up in the control room fer a while. Don't seem like anybody's been gettin' much sleep the last couple'a nights."

"She seemed fine, at first." Peter shrugged. "Not happy, but about the same as is usual for her lately. As she was finishing up, she suddenly became very upset, began crying. I went to her, put my hand on her shoulder."

"And?" Logan prompted, when the younger man's voice trailed off and he didn't continue.

"The next moment, I was on my back on the floor and she was swinging at me again. I managed to block her. After that, she ran out of the room." 

Logan's only outward reaction was a slight raising of his eyebrows, but his mind was working furiously. "And that's all ya did? Nothing else?"

"That is all."

"Damn." Logan sighed heavily. 

"If it makes a difference, " Peter added quietly. "I do not believe she did it intentionally."

The older man snorted derisively saying, "I'd flamin' well hope not," then shook his head in disbelief. "Girl's got better control than that. Or should have."

"She has lost much recently. Now, Moira is gone as well and we still do not know what happened to her after the satellite crashed, other than she spent some months in Genosha. At least," he corrected, "I do not know. Perhaps she has spoken of it with you or Ororo, but Katya rarely confides in me any more."

"Wha'da ya expect, Pete? You wasn't exactly rushin' to confide in her when **you** were havin' problems. Matter o' fact, best I remember, you rejected her pretty hard."

Logan watched as Peter's face fell, his eyes dropping to the ground, and had a moments regret that he'd been so harsh. But every word he'd said had been the truth and he wasn't one to beat around the bush on anything. Experience had taught him that if you didn't face up to the cold, hard facts of life and deal with 'em, one day they'd pop up and bite you in the ass.

"I had thought we put that behind us, had repaired our relationship to the point where we were friends once again. Apparently I was wrong."

"Damn right you were." Seeing the shock on his friends face at his unhesitating agreement, where Peter had obviously expected reassurance, Logan gave an amused snort. "Didn't expect me to disagree with ya, did ya, Kid?" 

"Are you saying there is nothing left between us at all? That I cannot even hope for her friendship?" 

**_Kid sounds pretty dejected, _**Logan mused, feeling a little sorry for the the younger man despite himself. That didn't mean he was going to take it easy on him. "What I'm sayin' is that ya might'a pushed her away just one time too many, Petey. Ya hurt her. Bad. I ain't sure she'll ever put that completely behind her. Kit's loyal, sometimes to a fault. You, me, 'Ro, the Elf, Rogue...we're her family. She'd go to hell and back for any one of us." His dark eyes pinned Peter with a pointed gaze. "More'n once, she has. Fer you, 'specially."

To his immense credit, Peter had the good grace to flush. Wolverine took it as a positive sign that the boy was finally turning into an actual grown up.

"I am well aware of my mistakes, tovarisch. And I regret them more than you can know. Which is why I would like to try and be here for her now, as she tried so many times to do the same for me." 

He was completely sincere. Logan knew that. But the kid still didn't get it.

"It ain't about you, Petey." His voice quiet but firm, when he spoke again. "And what you want don't really matter in this case. Yer right. Kit's lost a lot, and it all started with you. I'm glad ya finally got yer head straight, figured out what's important, but that ain't necessarily gonna make things magically all better. She'll always be yer family, probably **try **to be yer friend, but yer the one's gotta accept that things between the two o' ya may never get to the point where she'll trust ya enough to let ya close again. Ya hurt her too much, too many times." As Peter watched, a shadow passed over Logan's face, there and gone in moments. "Some things, ya can't make right, even when ya want to. Even when ya try yer best." 

Peter seemed to consider it for a moment before he nodded thoughtfully "Da. I suppose I should be grateful that we are even on speaking terms."

Sticking his cigar back in his mouth, Logan took a long drag, puffing out a cloud of white smoke into the clear morning air. To someone passing by, they could have been discussing something as trivial the weather or the latest fashion, for all the outward concern the feral Canadian showed. But Peter knew it was just his way. Wolverine rarely allowed his feelings to show unless he was preparing to fight.

"Like I told ya, she's loyal to a fault. But, if it makes ya feel any better, she ain't really talkin' to the rest o' us, either, 'bout whatever's goin' on with her. But, I'll tell ya this, there's more there'n meets the eye."

"I agree. So, what do we do about this?" He gestured toward his injured eye, which had become noticeably darker while they had been talking. "I would appreciate it if you would give me a chance to speak with her before you say anything..."

Peter broke off abruptly as Logan burst out laughing, glaring at the older man as he tried to decide what he'd said that he could find so funny.

"I ain't yer daddy, Pete. And I ain't gonna play referee between the two o' you. Ya wanna find out why she socked ya in the eye, ask her yerself."

Peter knew his mouth had to be hanging open as he stared at the older man in shock.

"But...I assumed that is why you wanted to know what happened. So you could talk to her about it, confront her with her actions of late."

Still chuckling, Logan shook his head.

"Yer a big boy and Kit's a big girl. Work out yer own problems." Seeing his companions confusion, Logan grinned. "I wanted ta mostly make sure **you** hadn't stepped outta line." This only made Peter look more incredulous. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm gonna have a nice long talk with our 'Cat, but it ain't gonna be about you, or yer eye. Like I told ya, it ain't always about you." 

With that said, Logan surged to his feet, heading for the kitchen door, calling back over his shoulder, "See ya on the plane, kid."

"Logan?" Peter called out to him just before he reached the door and Logan stopped, turning back to the young Russian. "May I ask you a question?"

"I ain't promisin' ta answer it," He shrugged, carefully stubbing out his half-smoked cigar and sticking it back into his shirt pocket. "but go ahead."

"Neither of you have ever talked very much about it and I have often wondered....What, exactly, happened to you and Katya in Japan all those years ago? Kurt, Ororo, and I have often speculated, as she came back very much changed."

Peter instantly knew he had made a grave mistake. Logan's entire body tensed, his face hardening as a steel wall seemed to slam down behind his eyes. The tall Russian had only had that particular look directed his way one other time, but the he immediately recognized it. Logan, his friend, was gone. What looked out at him now, from eyes as cold and unfeeling as death, was the Wolverine. 

"Sorry, but that ain't my story ta tell. Ya wanna know, ask Kit. Maybe she'll tell ya." Dark, dangerous eyes bored into him and Peter nearly flinched under their scrutiny. Only his many years of training kept his instinctive recoil from showing. "But remember this, you be careful what ya wish for. Some things, yer better off not knowin'." 

With that cryptic, and slightly threatening, comment, Logan started to turn away again, but suddenly thought better of it. He continued to scrutinize the man before him, as if trying to weigh out something in his mind, before speaking again.

"Now, let me ask you somethin'. What, exactly, do ya want outta Kit, Petey? What do ya expect ta get from her? Don't get me wrong, I ain't sayin' it's a bad thing that ya wanna help her, but I gotta wonder what's in it fer you. 'Cause ya need to know, I ain't gonna stand back and watch ya hurt her again."

Peter let out a short bark of bitter, humorless laughter, returning Logans steady gaze. 

What do I expect from Katya where I am concerned? The only thing I have any right to expect. Absolutely nothing. I simply want her to be happy, to return to some semblance of her former self." 

Logan nodded, seemingly satisfied with Peter's answer, and turned to go back inside. As he did, he heard the rest of what his friend had to say, unsure if the other man had actually meant to say it out loud or not. 

"But, what do I want from her, tovarisch? The same as I want to give her. Everything."

**********************************************************************************************************************

**A/N: **Ok, I know there's been a lot of internal monologue and discussion between the characters, but I swear, things actually start happening next chapter. Just needed these chapters to start setting it all up. This story is rated R and will start to earn that rating very soon now. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	5. Call of Darkness

**Disclaimer: **The X-Men are not mine. Not making any money. Just torturing them for fun and games.

This story will begin to earn it's "R" rating here, though it'll be pretty mild for now. But, if sexual situations or innuendo bothers you, don't read it. 

Don't even try to place this in current contunity, it'll only give you a migraine. If you gotta fit it in somewhere, let's just say it all takes place sometime after X-Men #109

Many thanks to my reviewers:

lllmantrim: The Wolverine/Kitty Pryde mini-series is a favorite of mine too. And, although Ogun won't be as prominent as you might like in this story, you just gave me a great idea for another one.

Caliente: Thank you, thank you, thank you. You're review made my day! Hope this was soon enough.

**************************************************************************************************************************

**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 5 – Call of Darkness**

Muir island was just as she remembered it from the time Excalibur was based there. Cold, gray, and melancholy. 

The perpetual mist weeping from the low, gray clouds had seemed fitting weather for Moira's memorial service in Kinross and it was just as fitting for their visit here. The mood of the day mirrored the mood of the people.

Kitty strolled along the edge of the cliffs that bordered the small island off the Scottish coast, home to the vast, sprawling complex that made up Dr. Moira McTaggert's Genetic Research Center. She walked, as she'd done so many times before, remembering days during happier times, as well as days almost as sad and bleak as today.

Once, this had been home and, for a time, she'd been happy. Or, at least, happier than she was now. 

So much had happened to her here. Like pictures in a book, moments of her life flashed through her mind.

The wounded look of betrayal on Peter's face the day she'd tricked him down from Avalon at the Professor's bidding. Waking up in 1936 after Rachel accidentally transported them through time and seeing Alasdhair Kinross for the first time. It had been love at first sight, and she still, sometimes, thought of what could have been. Losing Rachel in the time stream in order to bring Brian back. Meeting Pete Wisdom for the first time. That had **not** been love at first sight, but he'd grown on her. Douglock's arrival and the difficult time she'd had accepting that the wasn't a reincarnated Doug Ramsey. Peter showing up unexpectedly, and half crazy, and nearly killing Pete in a jealous rage. The battle with Black Air, the London Hellfire Club, and the Demon under London. The flirtation with Rigby Fallon during her S.H.I.E.L.D. internship that had ultimately destroyed her relationship with Pete. Brian and Meggan's wedding and the disbanding of Excalibur

Those days seemed so far away now, the girl she remembered herself to be almost like a stranger. It had all seemed so much simpler then. Band together, go forth, use your gifts, do good. 

It had sounded so easy. She had been so naïve.

Muir Island was where Kitty had truly grown up. She'd come here an insecure, teenage girl, but had left a confident, if somewhat more world weary, woman.

She often wondered what her life would be like now if Excalibur hadn't disbanded. 

They had been one of the more successful X groups. Here, they had been respected and appreciated for what they did, not feared, and certainly not hated. The worst a mob of citizens had ever done to any of them was ask for their autograph. Excalibur had been a success.

If they'd stayed here, not run off to help track down Xavier, would things have turned out differently? Would Moira still be alive? Or Pete? Would she be a happier person?

There were no answers, of course. Never would be. Only questions. What might have been.

On days like today, it seemed as if her whole life was one huge "what might have been". 

As she neared the tallest cliff on the island, she could vaguely make out a small, slender shape huddled near the edge, staring out at the ocean. 

Rhane.

Through this whole ordeal, the Scots girl had simply gone through the motions, like a zombie. How horrible it must be for her, losing her mother, her powers, all in one fell swoop.

The memorial service had been lovely, but Kitty wondered if her friend had heard or seen any of it. She'd just sat there, staring at the wall, barely blinking, still in shock. As far as she knew, the girl hadn't shed a tear since right after the attack. All the pain and rage and hate was probably just sitting there, waiting to burst forth when it grew so huge she couldn't contain it any longer.

Rhane had threatened Mystique, on the plane ride back to Westchester, as Moira lay barely clinging to life, had told the mutant assassin she would make her die screaming. Unlike everyone else, who thought the young mutant had only been speaking from the heat of the moment, Kitty had a very real idea that the younger girl was completely, absolutely serious. And it worried her.

Kitty wasn't the least concerned about Mystique. Whatever happened to her, it wouldn't be as bad as what she deserved. And she certainly wouldn't blame Rhane if she did exactly what she'd threatened, but the knowledge of what she'd done would haunt the gentle-natured girl for the rest of her life. She didn't want to see Mystique destroy Rhane's life any more than she already had.

Kitty deliberately made some noise as she approached, making sure Rhane knew she was there. Her friend didn't look up and she stood there beside her in silence for a moment. 

Like herself, Rhane was still wearing the same black dress she'd worn to the service, the only difference being the thick, knitted sweater thrown over her shoulders against the day's chill. Face even more pale than normal, long, red hair, damp from the mist, hanging limply down her back, shoulders slumped, head slightly down , she stared out unseeingly at the distant horizon.

"Mind some company, Fur Top?" Kitty asked quietly, her golden brown eyes sweeping out over the silvery gray waves that reached as far as the eye could see.

"No, Kitty. Sit down if ye want." Rhane's soft Scottish burr drifted to her on the misty air. Kitty had always loved the accent, had loved to listen to her and Moira talk, especially when they were mad or excited and the inflections became even more pronounced. The rolling tones had always made her think of warm fires and hot toddies for some reason.

Carefully, she dropped down onto the grass beside the other girl. For a long while, neither spoke, both lost in their own thoughts and memories, each content with the simple comfort of the others presence. 

They hadn't always been close. Kitty remembered a time, when they were both much younger, she with the X-men, Rhane with the New Mutants, that they hadn't cared for one another at all. A lot of that, she admitted, had been due to her own desperate need to distance herself from what she considered the "junior" team, the X-Babies as she'd called them, to feel that she belonged with the older, more "grown-up" senior team, the people she'd considered her surrogate family.

That had all changed, though, when Rhane came to Muir to be with her mother and joined Excalibur. They had both matured, grown up, gained experience and tolerance. It wasn't long before they'd become very close, almost like sisters. 

Now, Kitty hurt, she wept inside, for her friend's loss, for her pain. She knew what it was to lose those closest to you, knew that the hurt and sorrow never completely went away. And each new loss made another hole in the soul that could never again be filled.

Without a word, Kitty draped her arm around Rhane's slender form and the former shape-changer leaned into her, dropping her head onto her friends' shoulder. Kitty leaned her own dark head against Rhane's bright red one as each girl returned to their own thoughts. 

They stayed that way for what seemed like hours before either finally spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Rhaney. I know there's nothing I can do that will make it better, but I want you to know I love you. We all do. If there's anything you need, anything any of us can do for you..."

Beside her, Rhane sighed softly. "I love ye, too, Kitty and I thank ye f'r the offer... and the concern...but the only thing I really want is to have Mummy back, and there's no one can give me that."

"No," Kitty agreed sadly. "If I had that power, I'd have used it long ago. Seems like every time we turn around, though, there's an X-Man returning from the dead. But the ones we really want never seem to come back, do they?"

Rhane started to protest, but then her face hardened as she ruthlessly fought the ingrained habit of refusing such uncharitable thoughts. She'd just lost her mother. She had every right to think or feel however she wanted right now. 

"'Tis a wicked thing to say, I suppose, but 'tis the truth. And I cann'a help but resent people like Jean and the Professor, who seem to die ev'ry other week and always turn up fine." There was a bitterness, a hardness in the young woman's voice that hadn't been there before. "But Lady Moira, nor Douggie, nor Pete, nor puir, wee Illyana will e'er be comin' back like that. They're gone for guid and it just isn'a fair."

Kitty hugged her friend a little tighter, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes, not for the first time that day. "That's for sure, Rhaney. If life were fair, so many things would be different than they are." 

_**Doug, Illyana, Moira, and Pete would still be alive. My parents wouldn't have divorced and basically written me out of their life. Peter would never have broken my heart. And I'd have some kind of normal life... **_

The list went on and on as she ran through it in her head and Kitty cringed inwardly as she thought of Peter. She was going to have to talk to him. There was no way she could continue avoiding him. At the very least, she owed him an apology for giving him a black eye. He hadn't meant any harm and certainly didn't deserve to have her attack him as if he were Apocalypse, dropped down out of the sky for yet another try at ruling the world. 

But it was still so hard sometimes. To be around him, to work with him day after day. To try to be his friend when, once, she had wanted to be so much more. 

No matter what she did, those old feelings just wouldn't completely go away. They always popped up when least expected, at the most inopportune times, reopening those old cracks in her heart and making them bleed again.

Combine that with everything else happening to, and around, her and Kitty was constantly walking a fine edge of control. The incident in the Danger Room with Peter this morning had been an example of what happened when that control slipped, even the tiniest bit. 

In another lifetime, Kitty wouldn't have hesitated to confined her problems to Logan, or Kurt, Ororo, Rogue, or even Rhane, seek their help and advice, but this was beyond them. She was afraid it was beyond her, as well. What was happening to her was frightening and she didn't know how to stop it. She'd tried before, and failed.

She was fighting it as hard as she could, but it wasn't doing any good. Every day, every night, she slipped a little farther and every new loss, every new problem, pushed her closer to the abyss.

Kitty knew what would happen to her if she gave in, and the idea was too horrible to contemplate and retain her sanity.

With the mental equivalent of giving herself a good shake, she turned her attention back to her companion, telling herself that there would be plenty of time to contemplate her own dubious fate later. Rhane need her support now.

"Have you decided what you're going to do now? Are you coming back to the mansion?" Kitty asked into what she realized had become a rather prolonged silence.

She felt the Scots girl shake her head gently where it lay against her shoulder and Kitty's heart broke just a little more. Rhane had to make whatever life for herself she could, of course, but in the end, it would be just one more friend this Dream had taken out of her life. 

"No. I dinna belong there anymore."

Kitty lifted her head to look down at her friend. "Of course you do. You're still family, powers or no powers. That hasn't changed."

"Aye, but **I **have. I feel so lost, like I dinna e'en know who I am anymore. All I can think aboot is that all the fightin', all the dyin' has just been fer nothin'. We haven'a changed anythin'. Instead of gettin' better, it's all just gettin' worse and worse." The young Scots woman paused, exhaling heavily.

"I used to believe 'twas a mortal sin to kill." Rhane continued softly, dropping her eyes to her lap, where her hands twisted together nervously. "That, no matter what, it wasn'a right to take the law into yuir own hands, to take a life. I believed that anyone could change, given the chance an' the opportunity. They just had to be shown the error of their ways. 'Tis what I was taught, by the church, by the X-Men..."

"And now?" Kitty prompted gently as Rhane's voice trailed off.

When Rhane raised her head, Kitty could see the dark circles beneath tired, emerald eyes that blazed with a fury she'd had no idea the girl was capable of, even during the most fierce battle.

"Now, I think of all the innocent people Mystique, and others like her, have hurt and killed, because we dinna stop her when we had the chance, people that we were supposed to be protectin', and I want her to pay. Once and fer all, I want her stopped. She's had enough chances to change. Enough mercy." Her bright green eyes suddenly brimmed with tears and she swiped at them with the sleeve of her sweater. "Does that make me a horrible person, Kitty? Does that make me no better than the likes of **her**?"

Kitty looked back at her friend, saw the pain, the grief, and the helpless rage that so closely mirrored her own, and felt the first tear slip down her own cheek. 

What kind of life were they living that could take someone like Rhane...someone whose heart was pure, and good, and kind...and twist them around, destroy their innocence, and leave them broken and filled with hate and anger? Wasn't the whole point of The Dream to **prevent** this very thing? And, if they had failed so miserably with one of their own, shouldn't that be telling them something about what they were doing?

"You might be asking the wrong person, Fur Top, but I don't think it makes you a horrible person at all. And I sure don't think it makes you anything like Mystique. It just makes you human, like the rest of us." 

Taking a deep breath, Kitty wiped her eyes, regarding the girl beside her. "I've thought, for a long time, that the X-Men are just cutting our own throats trying to 'help' people like Sabertooth, Mystique, and Magneto, instead of putting a stop to their madness. Honestly, I think we've lost enough friends and family to this Dream. At least, the Professor's version of it. I don't think I can stand to lose anybody else. There's gotta be a better way." 

"Aye," Rhane agreed with a nod. "Just last night, I was thinkin'...If ye really sit down, count up all the friends and family we've all lost..." The green eyes boring into Kitty's brown ones were haunted, filled with tears and a sick horror. "Kitty, 'tis..." She shook her head sadly. "I dinna have any words...there are so many..."

Rhane couldn't even find the words to finish, but she didn't have to. Kitty knew exactly what she meant. She'd spent too many sleepless nights of her own lately counting up the cost of Charles Xavier's Dream.

"I know." She took a moment to wipe her eyes again, but it was a losing battle. There was no stopping the seemingly endless well of tears in her soul. "Doug...Illyana...My God, Peter's lost his whole family...the first Thunderbird...Scott...Jamie...Larry Bodine...Mariko Yashida...Pete..." Her voice broke on the last name, and she had to stop, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she closed her eyes against the flood of grief.

But Rhane took over where she left off, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "And Candy Southern...almost all the Morelocks...Rachel..."

"Even Madelyne Pryor." Kitty added softly. "After all, what happened to Maddie wasn't really her fault. If not for the X-Men, she wouldn't even have existed. And now, Moira."

"So many lost." Rhane almost whispered, her own tears falling like rain. Both girls had given up even trying to stop the them. It was an impossible task. "Kitty?" The redhead was wiping her face yet again on her sweater, trying to clear her vision a little.

"Yeah?" her friend responded quietly to the tentative question in the younger girl's voice.

"I think I'm guina stay here fer a while. Maybe go to university, study medicine, like Mum. Maybe carry on with her work. I dinna think..." She hesitated for a moment, worrying her bottom lip uncertainly, almost as if she were ashamed of what she was about to say, or unsure of how it would be received. "Well, I dinna think I want to be an X-Man anymore. At least, not fer a while."

Kitty closed her eyes tightly against a fresh flood of tears and and tried to offer her friend at least a small smile of encouragement, but it was so hard. Rhane was the last person on earth who should have to sound that disheartened and disillusioned with life. 

Remembering the shy, sweet, innocent little wolf-girl who had first come to Xaviers, and seeing now what that life had done to such an pure and innocent soul, made the dark haired young woman want to beat her fists against the cliff, to scream in impotent rage.

They should, both of them, have been in school, going to dances and parties, dating, having a normal life, being young. Not fighting, risking their lives on a daily basis and certainly not sitting here, reminiscing about their score of dead friends and family and feeling guilty for wanting something more. Neither of them should have to be just one more sacrifice on the alter of Charles Francis Xavier's idyllic Dream.

"Neither do I, Rhane," Kitty spat out fiercely, not even pretending to be sorry for how she felt. "I think you're making the right decision. Get out of this life, if you can call it that, before it destroys you. I know Moira would be proud that you want to follow in her footsteps and I think you'd be good at it." She turned back to the other girl, knowing her eyes were blazing just as brightly as Rhane's had been a moment before. "As a matter of fact, I think it's time for me to get out, too. While I still have a chance to make some kind of life for myself." 

Saying it out loud, making a conscious decision, made it real, as nothing else, not all the dreaming, thinking, and planning over the last months, had been able to do. Kitty suddenly felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her.

"Well," The young woman beside her shifted so that she could see Kitty better, giving her a considering look and an almost smile, looking more like herself than she had in almost a week. "since ye mentioned it, I was wonderin' if, maybe, ye might want to stay here, too? Ye've talked so much aboot takin' some time and goin' to university. I know 'tis isolated on the island, but we're not that far away from the mainland and we'd be goin' back and forth to school all along, so it wouldn'a be so bad. An' we could keep one another company." 

Rhane reached for her friend's free hand, taking it in her own. Their hands were like blocks of ice from the cold and damp, but neither girl noticed. "I know we haven'a always gotten along, but while we were with Excalibur, and o'er the last while since, I've come to think on ye like a sister." 

When Kitty didn't answer right away, the young redhead dropped her eyes for a moment, studying their joined hands, before raising them again, her expression serious and sincere, her voice thick with tears. "Kitty, I know ye haven'a been havin' an easy time of things lately, either. We haven'a had a chance to talk, but I **have **noticed. Whate'er it is, maybe we can work it out together. Try an' help one another. Ye, Kurt, Peter, Sam, and one or two of the others...ye'r all the family I have left, now. " 

Kitty stared at the other girl, at a loss for words one of the few times in her life. Unable to speak, she simply nodded, embracing her friend fiercely.

"Oh, Kitty....I miss her so much." Rhane's whispered words were almost a moan, as she clung to her. "How can she be gone? I'm not sure I can go on without her." She began to weep in earnest then, great wracking sobs that shook her small frame. "I just want her to come back..."

Closing her eyes, Kitty held her friend, stroking her hair and murmuring to her softly as the younger girl finally let go of some of the terrible pain she'd been carrying around inside for days, 

"I know, Rhane. I know. So do I."

**********************************************************************************************************************

A very long day had finally come to an end.

Today, she had stood over the grave of yet another friend, watched as yet another coffin was lowered into the cold, dark earth. She had stood with a group of people she considered her own family and mourned one of their own.

No matter how often she did it, it never got any easier. With each new loss, it only grew more difficult. 

Moira's would be one more empty space in her life, one more voice that she heard in the dead of night when she couldn't sleep.

It had been a day of good-bye's, of endings.

But it had also been a day of new beginnings, with the promise of a chance at a different, maybe better, life. Kitty hoped it would be the first of many.

She was preparing for bed, wearing only a mid-thigh length nightshirt, her slender, bare legs tucked up under her as she sat on the wide vanity stool, slowly running her brush through her long, chestnut hair. 

The face that stared back at her from the dresser mirror seemed much too young, compared to how old she often felt. Kitty was frequently surprised when she saw her own reflection and realized she didn't look like a crone, with white hair and wrinkles. It often seemed to her that she'd gone straight from thirteen to twenty three, with no intervening years between. 

Her childhood had been spent in space, fighting monsters, saving the universe, saving the world, fighting the evil mutant du jour, traveling between dimensions. She'd passed her fourteenth birthday aboard a starship in an far flung galaxy, contemplating he own imminent death and that of her friends. Experiences like that tended to age a person very quickly.

One day, the teenager had looked up and found an adult she barely recognized staring back at her from her own face. And she'd spared only a moment to wonder where her life had gone.

Maybe now, though, after the events and decisions of the day, she would have a chance at being a normal, ordinary girl. Or as close to that as she could come, being who she was.

Rhane had stayed on Muir, but Kitty had come back, just for a little while. Just long enough to pack up her things, tell them she was leaving, and say good bye. 

It was going to be a shock to nearly everyone. She had a feeling most of them thought of her as a lifer, believed that Shadowcat would never leave the X-Men, that the adrenaline junkie would never be able to put down the sword and leave the fight behind.

Kitty was determined to prove them very, very wrong. 

The majority of her team mates, with perhaps the exception of Kurt and Logan, had no idea of how very sick of fighting this never-ending, useless, unwinnable fight she really was. It would be no hardship for her to leave it in favor of something bordering on a normal life. If she thought really, really hard, she could almost remember what normal was like and she was looking forward to discovering it again.

There might come a day when she would fight again, but it would not be in the way she had before. Never again would she throw herself into the middle of something as useless, as counter productive, as what she'd been doing these last ten years. If she ever rejoined the effort, it would have to be for a more realistic, attainable goal. 

When she sat down, took the time to really think about it, Kitty realized that Charles Xavier, and the X-Men, may have actually done more harm to mutant/human relations than they had ever done it good. 

They had kept themselves hidden, secret. They had made the public afraid. Of the X-Men in particular, and, thanks to intimidating displays of raw power from the likes of Storm, Phoenix, Cyclops, and Magneto, of mutants in general. 

_**My God. The general public probably thinks all mutants are Alpha or Omega class and can fry their minds, call down thunder and lightning to burn them to a crisp, or blow up twelve square blocks of buildings, with no more than a look or a thought. **_

What a mess they had inadvertently made for themselves. 

In retrospect, they should have made their team, and their efforts, more public, more open, like the Avengers. It would have saved them all a lot of grief in the long run.

Kitty's random musings were interrupted by a soft knock at the door, which didn't really suprise her. She'd been avoiding him all day. They both knew it. Just as they both knew he would track her down tonight, just before she went to bed, when she didn't have anywhere left to hide.

"Katya? May I come in for a moment?"

Laying her brush on the dresser, she turned toward him. The door was open and he was standing right there, just outside her room., barefooted and bare chested, his glossy black hair, which he'd let grow out long, secured at the nape of his neck. An exceptional example of the male species, even among a group where well above-average looks were the norm. 

He could have walked right in, but he wouldn't do that. Not without permission. It would have been neither polite, nor proper, to his way of thinking.

"Sure, Peter." She waved him inside as she stood and went to the bed, taking a seat on one end, tucking her legs under her and pulling her nightshirt down over her thighs as she turned toward him. "Have a seat."

He sat carefully, a little ways away from her, close enough for conversation, but far enough apart to avoid the appearance of anything more intimate, should someone walk by in the hall and see them. 

Kitty found his concern for appearances rather ironic and a little amusing, considering she was wearing nothing more than an nightshirt and he only a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. 

But that wasn't particularly unusual around the mansion. No one spared much thought to their team mates walking around, watching TV, or even eating dinner, in various states of undress. 

When costumes were shredded to spaghetti on a regular basis in battle, you had to fight on the spur of the moment, in the middle of the night, in your underwear, nightgown, or nothing at all, or the enemy captured you and one or more team mates, stripped you all bare, and threw you into a shared cell, modesty was the first thing that went out the window. 

Kitty could have listed all her team mates' preferences in underwear, including color and style, and categorized by material, in her sleep. 

Anyone who'd been with the X-Men for more than six months or so would have already seen virtually every one of their team mates in the buff at least once by now. After a while, you just didn't notice, or care, anymore.

Nor would they particularly care what she and Peter happened to be doing in her bedroom together. 

**_Well, _**she corrected herself, **_maybe Logan would care._**

But probably no one else. Still, it wasn't in Peter to ignore the proprieties. He wouldn't enter her bedroom uninvited for anything less than an emergency, and he wouldn't crowd her while they were sitting on her bed half dressed. It was sweet, really. 

Realizing the silence between them was stretching out uncomfortably, she lifted her head to look up at him and immediately winced. His eye looked even worse close up and she felt a bright flush of shame at her actions. 

Stretching out her hand, she lifted it toward his face before she realized what she was doing. Abruptly, she aborted the movement, letting her hand drop back down into her lap.

"I did that, huh?" 

He nodded, his face unreadable. She couldn't decide if he were angry, hurt, upset, or none of the above. 

"Da. I am afraid you did."

"I'm sorry." She said it with soft sincerity, hating herself for having let it happen, for having allowed herself to lose control enough for it to happen. "I didn't mean to."

"I know," he replied just as softly, and this time it was Peter who reached out, taking her hand gently. "But I'm curious as to what made you react in such a way?"

Almost instinctively, she curled her hand into his, when she knew she should withdraw it instead. But it felt so nice, his palm was so warm against hers, that she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. 

It was only pretend, and it would cause her hurt later, but right now, she needed the contact, the connection.

"It was nothing. Just the stress of the last few days." She shrugged, forcing her face to adopt a bland expression, trying to play it off, though she could tell by his frown that he didn't really believe her. "You caught me at a bad time. And I'm really, really sorry." 

Kitty could feel him watching her with those intense, dark blue eyes, could feel his confusion and concern, his disbelief. He wanted to be her friend. He wanted to help her, wanted her to confide in him. But she couldn't. Not this time and not about this. 

"Kitty...please." The fact that he hadn't used his nickname for her, as he usually did, caught her attention, had her raising her head to look back up at him, as he'd known it would. Peter wanted to see her face, her eyes. She was trying to put him off, hiding something. He felt it. "You were furious, in a rage. That was not simple stress. Even as bad as it has been the last several days, we have endured worse. I wish you would trust me. Tell me what has been bothering you so."

"No, Peter. You're wrong." Kitty said it as confidently, made it sound as truthful, as she could. "That's all it was." She forced herself to muster a smile as she continued."But I'll be fine. In a little while, I'll be my old self again. You'll see."

"Somehow, I do not believe you."

He watched a spark of irritation flash in her eyes then, as she frowned, glaring back at him defiantly.

"You know, " she began slowly. "I don't really care what you believe. I said I'll be fine and I will."

**_Boshe Moi! She is a stubborn woman. _**If he'd been alone, Peter would have thrown up his hands in frustration.

Leaning in toward her, he tried, through sheer force of will, to make her understand how concerned he was for her. For a brief instant, he had a flash of deja-vu, remembering a similar conversation between them, years ago, when their roles were reversed and it was Kitty who was trying to coax him into talking to her. It had been just after Illyana died.

_**Perhaps this is divine justice. A taste of my own medicine for what I put her through. **_

"I find that hard to believe, after what I saw this morning." He stated evenly, trying not to let her see his frustration.

"And what, exactly, did you see, Peter? Other than me trying to work off some energy, **alone, **when I was upset? I went there at three o'clock in the morning for a **reason**. I wanted some time to calm down before I had to face anyone else."****

She was becoming truly irritated with him now, and he sighed inwardly. He hadn't come in here to fight with her.

"Nyet. That is not what I mean. I was talking about the way you looked, just before you left. Your eyes..."

He actually felt her freeze, her body going completely rigid, as her eyes snapped to his, and he thought, for a moment, that he saw fear in their dark golden depths.

"What do you mean?" Kitty demanded, nearly shouting. Suddenly, the little peace she'd managed to acquire since they'd gotten back from Scotland shattered, crushed under the weight of an engulfing wave of terror. "What about my eyes? What did you see?"

"Calm down, Katya. It was nothing," he soothed. "A trick of the light, I'm sure..."

"What...did...you ...see?" She ground it out, reminding him of the tone she'd used this morning. It seemed to Peter that she was caught between rage and panic and he had no idea why she was suddenly in such a state.

"Why are you so upset?" Her face had gone deathly pale and she was clutching his hand so hard her nails were digging into his palm. And she was trembling. "Katya, please, tell me what is wrong."

"Peter, just tell me. Please. What did you see? What about my eyes?" She was on the edge of panic, on the verge of tears. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was sure it would burst through her chest at any moment. **_Oh, God. Please, don't let it be what I think. Don't let it have been that close._**

Shaking his head in confusion, Peter gave her a helpless, uncomprehending look. He tried to reason with her, deliberately making his voice as calm, as soothing, as possible.

"Truly, it was nothing. You were obviously furious, almost in a rage and, for a moment, just a split second, it looked as if your eyes glowed red. But they couldn't have. It had to have simply been a momentary trick of the light in the Danger Room..."

Peter knew the exact moment that he lost her, that she shut him out. She straightened up, pulling her hand out of his, closing in on herself. He could almost see the wall slam down over her face. And his heart sank.

"You're right. It had to be an illusion. A reflection of the lights in the room." Her voice was dead calm, toneless, emotionless, as was her outward appearance, but inside, she was screaming. It had almost taken her. And, if it had, she would have killed him. Without a thought. Without batting an eye.

Of all the rest, besides herself, his ties to it were strongest. Almost as strong as her own. If it took her, if she succumbed and called it forth, Peter would be in far more danger than anyone else. It would take him as well, either on it's own, or through her. Kitty knew she couldn't allow that. 

Before he could recover from her outburst enough to say anything else, she plunged ahead, knowing what she had to do. 

"And you might as well be the first to know. I'm leaving the X-Men. I'm going to stay with Rhane, on Muir, go to college, try to have a normal life. Away from this place and away from Charles Xavier's Dream and everything that goes with it."

"Just like that?" he asked, shocked.

"Yes. Just like that." she returned, matter-of-factly. Oh, she sounded so calm, even to her own ears, when in reality, inside, she was a complete wreck. All she really wanted to do was blurt the whole thing out, tell him everything, curl up in his lap and let him hold her until it all went away. 

"And there is nothing here for you any longer? Nothing that you will regret leaving behind?"

Was that hurt she heard in his voice, as he almost whispered the words? It surprised her for a moment, which at this point, wasn't difficult, but she forced herself to ignore it. 

"No. Nothing." It was all she could manage to get out. When she mustered the courage to look him in the face, she got yet another suprise. 

A single tear ran from the corner of his left eye as he stood, turning his broad back to her and heading for the door. He stopped, just before he stepped into the hall, but didn't turn back to face her.

"I wish you well, and I hope you are happy, Katya. But remember, running away from your problems will not help. It will not make them go away. I know. I have been there, as well." 

Before she could even begin to think of a reply, he was gone.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Bright, blinding light gave way to near total darkness. She was lying on a rough, cold, stone floor, but she was disoriented, nauseous, and she had no idea where she was. 

Kitty managed to lever herself up onto her hands and knees, then eventually stand as the lurching in her stomach finally subsided. She wasn't very steady on her feet, but at least she was upright. 

_**Why does this seem so familiar?**_

Her head ached, and she still wasn't sure she wouldn't throw up any minute now, but something told her she needed to get moving. Staying in one place too long was dangerous. 

Taking it slowly, she made her way down the passageway, toward a dim light in the distance. She had no idea where she was going, what she might be heading into, but there was an urgency inside her, telling her not to stop, to keep moving.

She emerged into a wide corridor, the junction where half a dozen or more passages met. The glow she'd seen had come from here, where torches mounted on the wall burned low, giving off just enough light to cast vague, grotesque shadows without really illuminating anything. 

Demonic shapes seemed to caper and dance in the flickering shadows of the torch light, and a chill ran up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Kitty told herself that it had to be her imagination playing tricks on her, those transient shapes couldn't be real, but it gave her the creeps just the same.

And the walls. God, they were awful. As she walked closer, she realized that what she'd taken to be carved stone was actually something gray and pulsing that looked...organic. As if it had been grown instead of built. And they were...oh, God...oozing.

_**"Yeecchh!"**_

It was so disgusting, yet fascinating at the same time. 

Almost against her own will, she reached out her hand toward one wall, wondering what it would feel like to touch it. 

And realized she was wearing yellow gloves. 

She looked down at herself, and her eyes went wide.

Yellow gloves. Yellow boots. Black and yellow bodysuit with red trim. Wide red belt. Yellow belt buckle with it's very prominent **X.**

_**My training uniform?!**_

The first uniform she'd been given when she joined the X-Men. Over ten years ago. Kitty hadn't seen it in at least seven or eight years. She had no idea where it was or even if it still existed. Truth be told, she'd never liked the thing and had gotten rid of it at the first opportunity.

So how could she be wearing it now?

Shrugging her shoulders, Kitty decided the uniform mystery could wait until she got the heck out of where ever this was. This place was making her more and more uncomfortable the longer she stayed. 

Kitty picked one of the dimly lit corridors at random, keeping her senses alert for danger as she moved quietly down the passageway. The décor did not improve or become any more appealing as she went. In fact, it actually got worse, if such a thing were possible.

Here, the walls seemed to form pictographs, horrible murals depicting scenes of such obscenity it made her head spin. Demons, devils, and succubi cavorted among piles of human bones as they tortured the damned in ways too horrible to imagine.

Disgusted, Kitty tore her eyes from the spectacle, returning her attention to what was ahead of her.

The light up ahead seemed to be brighter and Kitty realized she was coming to the end of the corridor. She slowed, approaching the entrance to the next room carefully, not knowing what she might encounter.

Just inside the corridor, at the entrance to the next room, Kitty flattened herself against the wall, forcing down her disgust at the thought of actually touching it, and tried to peek around the corner. 

Before she could even register the movement, a huge hand snaked out, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her roughly into the adjoining chamber. Kitty had a split second to register the massive bulk of a horned, purple monster – **_Demon, _**her mind supplied. **_S'ym. _**- before she was flung roughly to the floor, face first.

The impact nearly rendered her unconscious and it took her a few precious moments before her mind cleared enough for her to move again. 

Bracing herself on her hands, she pushed her torso up, raising her head at the same time, finding her face perilously close to a large throne situated in the middle of the room.

Kitty lifted her face and her eyes fell on the man, if you could call him that, seated there. All the blood in her body froze solid, even as her quick, intelligent mind took in the red skin, horns, fangs, glowing red eyes, and clawed hands.

Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, to flee as fast and as far as she could, but she couldn't move, even though she knew her life, her very soul, depended on it. 

"Welcome, child." The creature's soft, cultured tones belied the evil that surrounded him like a second skin. "My name is Belasco. I have been waiting for you."

**********************************************************************************************************************

Kitty sprang upright in bed, choking on her own scream, her skin sheathed in a cold sweat, though she felt as if she were burning alive.

_**A dream. It was only a dream. Nothing more.**_

She tried to make herself believe it, but it had been far too real. The stench of Limbo was still in her nostrils, she could still feel the cold, stone floor against her knees and hands, still hear the Demon Lord's maniacal laughter ringing in her ears.

Her heart was racing, her breath coming in desperate gasps. Kitty felt as if she were suffocating, about to pass out, and realized she was beginning to hyperventilate. With a conscious effort, she forced herself to calm down, forced her breathing to slow, until her bodily functions again reached something approaching normal.

Only then did Kitty open her eyes. The first thing she saw was the glowing outline of the Soulsword floating directly in front of her face, the image becoming more and more indistinct as it slowly faded again into nothing. 

As she watched it flicker out and disappear, her brain finally registered that she was holding something in her right hand. Something that had not been there when she fell asleep.

Looking down as she opened her fist, Kitty was not in the least surprised to find the Bloodstone Amulet laying in her palm. 

She should have been terrified, or at least shocked, but instead, an eerie calm settled over her. With the flick of a finger, she tripped the latch and the amulet's cover sprang open, revealing the three dark bloodstones nestled within their pentagram. 

Kitty studied it for a few minutes, though she was exceedingly familiar with every square inch of the talisman, inside and out. And she distinctly remembered packing it away, years ago, just before she'd met Pete. 

How it had gotten here, now, she could only guess. 

There was one thing, however, that she did know. Kitty knew that, if she were to look in a mirror at that moment, she would find her eyes glowing the same deep, hellish, blood red as the small stones themselves.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Scowling fiercely, Kitty limped out of the Danger Room, using the door this time, as it was much more satisfying to slam that in the faces of her trailing team mates than it was to simply phase through the wall.

She ripped off her mask and slung her katana into it's scabbard on her back, muttering darkly under her breath as she made her way to the elevator.

"Of all the asinine, stupid, bubble-brained mistakes, this absolutely takes the cake. What and idiot! I was better than that by the time I'd been here two months. I can't **believe** they actually let this guy go on missions. What are they **thinking**? He's more of a danger to us than he is the enemy."

The elevator doors slid open and she continued her tirade to herself as she stepped inside and quickly pushed the button to close the doors again. All she needed at this point was to be crammed into a little steel box with a bunch of people whose butts she was seriously considering kicking right about now. 

What was it with some of these rookies anyway? Ok, so the guy had lots of raw power. Whoopee! From what she'd just seen, he had little to no control over it. He expected to barrel through battle like a runaway train. That was all fine and good, she supposed, if your goal was to kill the rest of the team.

A fine plan, if you wanted to go to work for Magneto or Sinister. Not so good if you wanted to be a member of the X-Men.

Her foot tapped impatiently as she waited for the elevator to reach it's destination. Lately, patience seemed to be in short supply where Kitty was concerned. She found she had very little these days, especially when it came to dealing with her increasingly annoying team mates. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she awakened nearly every night, sick and trembling, from nightmares that seemed to grow worse and worse.

_**Or, maybe it's because all my supposed friends are driving me crazy!**_

God, she would be so glad when she could move out of here. Most of her stuff was already packed and much of it had already been shipped ahead to Muir, but somehow, Kitty had let Kurt and Logan talk her into staying until the end of the month. Now, she really wished she hadn't. 

Finally, the elevator stopped, the doors slid open, and Kitty stepped out into the passageway leading to the residential wing. Not bothering with doors now, she took the short cut, phasing through halls and empty rooms until she reached her own. 

Throwing her mask on the bed, she unhooked the rigging that held her katana in place, letting it drop to the floor as she began to strip off her costume.

A soft "bamf" and the stench of sulfur alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone.

"Kurt," His name came out on a sigh of frustration. "I'm undressing here."

"Ach. Sorry, Katzchen. I was hoping to catch you before you had gotten that far."

Holding the front of her costume up over her breasts, she turned to face the fuzzy, blue, demon-like mutant who was probably her best friend. Which was, in all likelyhood, the only reason she hadn't already taken his head off.

"Did you want something, Fuzzy?"

Kurt just grinned mischievously, raising one eyebrow as he took in her state of near undress.

"Perhaps, Leibchen, you would like to rephrase the question?"

Kitty snorted, rolling her eyes heavenward.

"Oh, please. Like you haven't seen it all before, several times. Besides, I'm not your type."

The swashbuckling Nightcrawler affected an injured look, one hand clutching at his heart.

"Madame, you wound me. I consider all beautiful, nearly unclothed women to be my type."

He was only joking. She knew that. Kurt knew that she knew. It was the kind of friendly banter they'd indulged in a million times before. Kurt looked on her as a sister. He would never think of her that way, and certainly never seriously proposition her.

So, what Kitty did next took him totally and completely by suprise.

Before his eyes, her face seemed to...change, all traces of humor gone in an instant as her golden eyes darkened to a rich chocolate. Her bearing almost predatory, she sidled up to him. When they were nearly nose to nose, she dropped her hands to her sides, letting her costume fall to her waist, exposing her breasts.

He blinked, not believing his own eyes at first, as they took in all that smooth, bare skin, those high, firm mounds with their rosy, erect nipples. 

His mouth was hanging open, but there didn't seem to be much he could do about it. Though his brain was working, registering what was happening, it refused to believe the information it was receiving, leaving him pretty much frozen in place, even as it crossed his mind that this could escalate into a very uncomfortable situation if he didn't put a stop to it now. 

Kurt's stunned hesitation made Kitty smile, a sharp, wicked curve of her lips that sent chills down his spine. Before he could move, or speak, she closed the remaining distance between them, twining her arms around his neck as she pressed herself tightly against him. He could feel the heat radiating off her body through his costume.

"Do you think I'm beautiful, Kurt?" She purred against his ear, her warm breath washing over him. "Would you like a chance to show me just how beautiful you think I am?"

To his consternation, his body did not seem to be obeying the commands of his brain, which was now howling in panic, telling him to run away, teleport away, disappear, crawl through the keyhole, sink into the floor, anything so long as he got far, far away from this room and this situation very quickly. He tried to speak, to tell her how wrong this was, in so very many ways, but all that came out were little helpless, gurgling noises.

The next thing he knew, her lips were pressed firmly against his, her tongue thrusting into his mouth. She didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that he wasn't participating, just standing there like a statue as he tried to process the fact that his friend, his surrogate **sister**, was making aggressive, sexual advances toward him.

It took her next act to finally break the spell of immobility and incoherence that seemed to have engulfed him from the moment she'd dropped the top of her costume. 

When he felt one of her slender, nimble hands press between them, her long, delicate fingers gently but firmly caressing his crotch, Kurt literally jumped back three feet, uttering a strange, strangled cry of alarm.

"Kitty! Mein Gott, girl! What is wrong with you? What in hell do you think you're doing?" 

The glare she sent him could have curled solid steel and, for just a fraction of a second, he thought her saw white hot flames dancing in her eyes. But the next moment, she was grinning at him, though it looked more malicious than humorous.

"Geez, Fuzzy. Can't you take a joke?" Though she didn't move otherwise, Kitty did, at least, pull her top back up over her chest, for which the German mutant was eternally grateful.

"Kitty, that was **not **funny!" His face was turning an almost eggplant purple he was so angry and embarrassed. "Why would you do something like that?"

Despite the fact that he was obviously furious with her, Kitty continued to smile that strange, malevolent smile as she shrugged her shoulders unconcernedly.

"God, will you lighten up? I was just **kidding.** Get over it, already. Besides, you're the one who came in here while I was undressing." 

"And that gives you the right to molest me?" Kurt riposted sharply. What the hell was wrong with her? She wasn't even acting like herself. And, quite frankly, she was beginning to scare him.

"You started it. Can't you take a dose of your own medicine?" 

She was taunting him, he realized, which only added to his confusion and unease. Kitty might joke with him, play along with his harmless flirting, but she would never, normally, take it this far. Something was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.

Reigning in his temper, Kurt tried to reason with her.

"I would never behave so crudely. With anyone. And, I must say, I am shocked and disappointed by your behavior. If it was a joke, it was in extremely poor taste. I certainly did not come here expecting anything like this."

Kitty's eyes glittered at him, her expression hard as flint and the blue-furred man had the strangest, most inexplicable feeling that he wasn't looking at his friend, but someone, or something, that bore a striking resemblance to Katherine Pryde.

"Oh, really? So, what **did** you come here for then, Kurt?"

With a sigh, he remembered the reason for his visit and decided that he might as well use her question as an excuse to change the subject.

"I came to make sure you were all right. You were limping when you left the Danger Room and I was afraid you might have been hurt."

The brittle sound of her forced laughter filled the room.

"Well, don't worry your pretty, little blue head about me. I'm fine. No thanks to the rest of you. That maniac could have killed me."

"Kitty, Thunderbird is still learning. He is much improved, compared to when he first came here, but he is going to make mistakes. We are supposed to be here to teach him, not kill him," he replied reasonably.

"He fights like a blind elephant, Kurt." 

To his horror, she turned her back to him and continued to undress. He quickly spun around, facing away from her and wondering if he'd somehow teleported into an alternate dimension. This could not be **his** normally modest, considerate Kitty.

Kurt's reaction didn't even give her pause as she continued. "He thinks he can just smash and bash his way randomly through everything. Neal's a nice enough guy, but he caused a ten ton pile driver to fall on me. If it had been anyone else, someone who couldn't phase out of the way, they would've been killed." 

Kitty's face darkened further and she scowled deeply, pinning Kurt's back with a hard look. "And you know darn well that I wasn't trying to kill him. If I was, he'd be on a slab in the morgue right now instead of the medlab."

The calm, matter-of-fact way she said it had the teleporter's hair standing on end and it drove home to him just exactly how dangerous this petite, slender woman could be when she wanted to, even without her powers. Gott help them all if she ever lost control.

"But, Leibe, you nearly broke his leg, and I am sure you scared at least five years or so off of his life." 

"Then maybe he'll be more careful next time." He heard her sigh heavily. "You can turn around now, Kurt." she stated somewhat impatiently.

He did so slowly, breathing a sigh of relief and sending up a silent prayer of thanks when he found her dressed in her robe. It dawned on him that perhaps, in light of recent events and her strange behavior, this conversation should be postponed until they were somewhere besides her bedroom, alone. Before he could say anything, however, she was talking again.

"He's going out into the big, bad, unforgiving world with Ororo's team. God alone knows what they'll run into. Do you really think a Sentinel, or Magneto, or Sabretooth will go easy on him if he screws up.? Those people are my friends, my family. I won't see them hurt or killed because of his stupidity."

Kurt nodded, conceding to her point as he watched her storm around the room, gathering up her shower supplies.

Neal Sharra did have a long way to go to gain proper control of his powers. More than once recently, Nightcrawler had wondered if Storm truly knew what she was doing, including a rookie in a team that would, for all intents and purposes, be completely on their own, cut off from the rest of the X-Men, dependent on their own skills, cunning, and experience for their very survival.

"I understand your point, Katzchen. And I share some of your concerns, but you cannot simply beat up every team mate who offends you. We will soon run out of X-Men that way." He favored her with his most charming grin, trying to lighten the mood, but the gesture fell flat. 

"Doesn't really matter, anyway." Kitty abruptly dismissed the whole conversation with a negligent wave of her hand. "I won't be here that much longer. Thank God."

Upset and confused by this entire encounter, Kurt sent her a wounded look. "Are you really so anxious to get away from us, Katzchen?" 

Deep inside, Kitty feel a sharp stab of guilt at the way she was behaving toward Kurt. A little voice told her that she was acting irrationally, but the part of her that was in control, the angry, vengeful, wicked part, quickly pushed it down and away as she whirled to face him, dropping her shampoo and toiletries onto her dresser with a crash.

"Are you kidding me? I can't wait to get out of here! What has this place ever done but bring me grief, pain, and heartache? I should never have let you and Logan talk me into sticking around this long."

The furry, blue mutant stared at her with his glowing, golden eyes, deeply hurt by her words and her attitude. What had happened to her to make her change so much, so suddenly? This was not the friend he had known for the past decade, the girl who was like family to him.

"I am sorry you feel that way, Leibchen." Kurt dropped his head dejectedly. "You are my friend, and I love you. I hope your new life makes you happier than the one you've had with us."

With a soft "bamf" of imploding air and a puff of smoke, Nightcrawler left the same way he'd arrived.

Kitty's eyes remained fixed to the place he'd been for a moment, fighting an internal war with herself. Then, the part of her that won rolled it's eyes and shook it's head.

"Men." she groused, picking up her shower supplies. "Such big babies. Can't take a joke and sure can't take a little constructive criticism. Ought'a just kill 'em all and be done with it."

As she straightened up, Kitty caught sight of herself in the mirror. The red flames dancing in her eyes reflected back at her hotly. Slowly, she smiled.

**********************************************************************************************************************

"She did **what**?!"

"For the love of God, Logan, be quiet." Kurt hissed as his friend leapt up from his chair and began to pace the length of the living room. They'd come in here, instead of the den, because interruptions would be less likely. "Do you want the entire household participating in this conversation?"

Wolverine glared at him, but did lower his voice. "Elf, are ya sure? Maybe ya just misunderstood..."

The blue man laughed humorlessly. "Mein freund, when a nearly naked woman plasters herself against me, sticks her tongue in my mouth, and grabs my crotch, there is really only one way I **can** interpret it." Crossing his arms over his chest, he silently dared his friend to contradict that. 

Of course, he understood that Logan really didn't want to believe what he had just told him. It was only natural. After all, it had actually happened to Kurt, and even he was having a hard time believing it.

"Damn." Logan stopped his pacing long enough to throw his friend an apologetic look. "Sorry, Elf. But...damn. This is Kit we're talkin' about. If you'd said it was Emma, or Paige, or even Betts, I woudn't a batted an eye. But Kitty?"

Kurt sighed dejectedly. "Ja, I know, I know. This is definitely not like her at all."

"Yer a real master of the obvious." Logan replied sarcastically. "What the hell's gotten inta that kid lately?"

"Trust me, Logan. She is definitely not a 'kid' anymore. Our Kitty is very obviously fully grown." His rather lame attempt at humor earned him another glare and an actual growl this time. 

"Elf, will ya please shut up. There're just some things I don't wanna know, alright?" Logan shook his head, absently massaging his temple, where he was almost positive a blood vessel had burst. Healing factor or no healing factor, he had an idea this situation just might kill him. "First, she pops Petey one and gives him a black eye, now she's comin' onto you like the playmate of the month...Ya know we can't just let this go, don't ya?"

Kurt's glowing, golden eyes met Logan's dark, almost black ones, and the teleporter nodded reluctantly. "I suppose I do, though I would rather go upstairs, crawl in...or perhaps under...my bed and forget this day ever happened."

"You n' me both, Wagner. You n' me both."

**********************************************************************************************************************

A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed that. The ride's gonna get rougher after this. Next chapter may take me a little longer because there are several different elements I have to tie in to make this thing work, and it's not being cooperative. Please review. Authors live for reviews.


	6. Dreaming, Deceiving, and Bleeding for Yo...

Disclaimer: None of these poor, pitiful, tortured souls belong to me. They all belong to Marvel, who mistreats them even more than I do. I'm making no money, but I doubt you really thought I was.

Thanks to all reviewers:

Caliente: I totally agree about the Cameron siblings. Slipstream was positively whiney, and how, exactly, did Lifeguard manage to turn into an entirely different species overnight? As for Neal, he seemed to get over Betsy's death awfully quickly when he took off with Heather,didn't her? Yes, the Kitty and Kurt thing was positively disturbing, but it force me to write it. I swear, this thing is taking on a life of it's on. Yes, Amanda is supposed to be the Queen of Limbo at present, and we will see her later on and all will be made clear. Or as clear as this convoluted mess can ever get, I suppose. I never realized how many loose ends Claremont left lying around until I started writing this. Thanks again for your reviews. You're terrific!

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**Chapter 6 - Dreaming, Deceiving, and Bleeding for You**

Rogue was curled up on the sofa in the dark, the flicker of the television screen providing the only light. 

She was in a melancholy mood, what with Remy having already left for New Orleans and her at loose ends until what she was beginning to think of as "The Away Team" was ready to leave.

**_Dear Lord. Ah've really gotta stop watchin' so much Star Trek._**

_****_The current movie playing on cable was Casablanca. It really wasn't helping lighten her mood, but it was one of her favorites and she never missed it if she could help it. 

Tonight, for some strange reason, she kept assigning the various characters to members of the X-Men. It was really surprising how well some of them fit into the story. Jean made a perfect Elsa, and the character of Rick had Logan written all over it. It only helped confirm her theory that they were all living out some kind of twisted soap opera and just didn't know it. 

There was a giant bowl of buttered popcorn nestled between her and the arm of the couch and a huge glass of soda on the end table beside her. The mansion, for once, was actually quiet and Bobby wasn't around to drop chunks of ice down her shirt if she happened to fall asleep. As far as Rogue was concerned, it was a perfect evening. 

Though she was aware of someone else entering the room a short time later, the Southern woman didn't look up to see who it was right away. Whoever it was could stay, keep quiet, and watch the movie, or mosey on somewhere else. She didn't really care, as long as they didn't try to change the channel. 

It wasn't long, however, before a dark head leaned over her shoulder from behind the couch to see what she was up to. 

If it had been anyone else, Rogue would probably have ignored them, but she turned her head to smile up at this interloper. He'd looked pretty down for the last several days and she figured he could probably use a friend about now.

"Hey, Petey. What'cha up to?"

"Not very much." Peter tried to smile back, but it didn't reach his soft blue eyes. 

"Well, then," She patted the empty space beside her on the sofa in invitation. "pull up a couch and keep me and Bogie company."

"Are you sure you do not mind? I don't want to bother you." 

"Don't be silly, Sugah. It's no fun watchin' this kinda movie alone. Then Ah don't have a shoulder to cry on durin' the mushy parts."

Peter stepped around to the front of the sofa, sitting down next to Rogue and she, out of long habit, slid over close to him, leaning against his arm. 

It wasn't something she would have done with more than one or two of the other guys on the team, other than Gambit, but Peter was about the closest thing to a brother she had and neither of them thought a thing of it. 

The only skin on her body not covered by clothing was her face and he knew the drill. Like the rest of the X-Men that had been her long-time team mates, it had become such an ingrained habit to avoid skin to skin contact with her that he wasn't even conscious of doing it. Rogue didn't have to worry about him forgetting and accidentally ending up unconscious on the floor while she sprouted metal skin and a Russian accent.

**_Not like some of these newer guys,_** she mused.

Newer, in the sense of not having been on the same team with her for any length of time, not necessarily new to the X-Men. As a matter of fact, Jean and Warren were two of the worst when it came to forgetting to be careful around her. She was getting really, really tired of suddenly sprouting big white wings, or unwillingly eavesdropping on every dirty little thought within a ten mile radius.

If the girls in this outfit ever found out what most of the guys here were thinking about the majority of the time, they'd probably just kill them outright, be done with it, and consider it a service to humanity in general, and womankind in particular.

Picking up the bowl of popcorn, Rogue dropped it into Peter's lap and they both spent the next hour and a half compulsively munching on handful after handful while Bogie tortured himself over a wishy-washy woman who wasn't good enough for him anyway. At least in one Southern Belle's opinion.

"Pete, did'ja ever notice how much Elsa's character reminds a body of Jean?"

Peter nearly spit out the mouthful of popcorn he was chewing on. He looked down at Rogue to see if she were kidding, but she appeared perfectly serious.

"I honestly cannot say I ever have." he ventured carefully.

"Well, just think about it for a minute. There's this woman, with two pretty cute guys after her. One's nice and safe and sorta borin', but stable. The other one's a rebel, kinda dangerous, but interestin' and a lotta fun. But she can't decide what to do. Stay with the safe, boring, stable one, or take off with the dangerous, crazy, fun one. So she doesn't do anything. She makes a choice by makin' no choice at all. Sound familiar?"

Peter considered it for a moment, then laughed softly. "Rogue, you have a very warped mind, but I see your point. How do you come up with these things?"

"Just a natural gift, Ah guess." She grinned widely, her green eyes sparkling with humor as a thought struck her. "Hey! Maybe it's some kinda secondary mutation. You know...the amazin' ability to divine the hidden meanin' of life from old black and white movies."

"You are a wicked woman. Gambit should be very afraid."

Giggling, Rogue winked at him. "Oh, trust me, Sugah. He is."

They settled back into a comfortable silence as the next movie came on. The empty popcorn bowl was put aside and it wasn't long before Rogue was stretched out on the sofa with her head in Peter's lap. 

When they'd first gotten together, Rogue's propensity for such casually intimate contact with her close male friends had driven Remy nuts. For a woman who couldn't touch anyone, he'd told her, she sure did spend a lot of time leaning, sitting, or lying on the other guys on the team. She'd just laughed in his face and told him to live with it.

She might not be able to actually touch anyone, skin to skin, but she was an affectionate person by nature and she enjoyed what contact she could with those she was close to. It might not be much, but it was all she had and, by God, she was going to make the most of it.

The second movie, something with Gene Kelly and Natalie Wood, didn't prove as interesting as the first, and soon they were both getting a little bored with it. Peter decided to make conversation instead.

"Have you heard from Gambit since he left?"

Rogue turned over onto her back, away from the television, so she could look up at him.

"Not yet. Ah figure he's busy, what with just gettin' home and all. He'll call first chance he gets."

"You do not sound particularly concerned." Peter observed, surprised that she was so casual about it. He would have expected her to be sitting on pins and needles, waiting to hear from him, especially in light of what might turn out to be a prolonged separation.

But Rogue shrugged casually. "Sure, Ah worry about the Swamp Rat. Can't help it. But Ah worry more about him gettin' hisself inta some kinda trouble 'cause of that cocky attitude of his than Ah do about him runnin' off with somebody else, or whether he really loves me. That'd just be a waste of time. If Ah can't trust him, then we got no business together."

Her confidence made him smile. Not so long ago, she wouldn't have been nearly so sure of herself, or Remy.

"So, the two of you have finally worked out your problems?" He asked and Rogue's silvery laughter filled the room.

"Heck, no. We'll prob'ly never get that far. But things are a lot better'n they have been. Even with us bein' apart."

Peter was quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Rogue was just beginning to wonder if he'd fallen asleep when he looked back down at her, his eyes filled with a sort of wistful yearning.

"How did you do it, Rogue? After all your problems, everything that happened to, and between, you and Gambit...how did you work through it?"

The tone of his voice, the look on his face, had Rogue's brows knit together, as understanding suddenly dawned on her.

"Before Ah answer, Petey, do ya mind tellin' me where this is comin' from? You've gone 'round with your chin draggin' the ground for days now, and it don't take a genius to figure out somethin's wrong. An' in my own experience, Ah've learned that, if ya don't talk about it, it sure won't get any better, an' it'll prob'ly just get worse." She reached up and patted his shoulder affectionately, and settled in for a long session. "So come on and tell ol' Rogue all about it and we'll see if we can't figure out an answer to the problem. Or at least talk it so near to death that it just gives up."

**********************************************************************************************************************

The dreams came every night now. Only Kitty wasn't so sure anymore that they **were** dreams. They were too solid, too real. She could see, hear, feel everything going on around her with absolute clarity. Almost like she was living in someone else's memories.

She sat up in bed, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead with clammy hands as she waited for the images to fade. 

Tonight hadn't been as bad as some. At least she hadn't awoken choking back her own screams, or with her hands covered in blood, as had happened a couple of nights ago. She still didn't know where it had come from. There hadn't been a mark on her. 

Except that, in the dream on that particular night, she'd been viciously beaten and tortured, covered in her own blood. It had run down her arms in crimson rivers.

But dreams couldn't manifest into reality. Could they?

Pushing the covers back, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. When she felt able, she'd get up, maybe go downstairs and watch TV, maybe read, but she knew she wouldn't be sleeping any more.

Tonight, in her dreams, she'd watched one friend die a horrible, brutal death, watched as another was tortured, corrupted, broken, until he was no longer the man he had been, only a vile, evil thing, wearing her friends face like a mask.

And it had been familiar. The whole scene. But that wasn't how it had happened. When her team had gone into Limbo after Illyana, no one had died, no one was left behind. For probably the millionth time in the last few days, Kitty desperately wished her friend were here now. Not only did she miss her terribly, but she needed some answers.

Illyana had spoken very little of her time in Limbo. All Kitty really knew was that an alternate version of Storm and an alternate version of herself had tried to help her, had kept Belasco from fully corrupting her, as he'd wanted. She'd always had a suspicion that Illyana had been forced to kill one, or both, of them at some point in order to defeat the Demon Lord and escape, but her friend wouldn't talk about it. 

Now, there was no one who would know. No one she could ask who might confirm or discount her suspicions that her dreams, the Bloodstone Amulet, and the Soulsword were all connected in some way to recent events with the X-Men.

The Soulsword had begun to appear to her again just after Pete was killed, the dreams and the Amulet, right after she'd gotten back from Moira's funeral in Scotland. 

Kitty looked down into her open palm, where the Amulet was nestled, as it had been every night since the dreams began. No matter where she put it before she went to sleep, it was always in her hand when she woke up. Just as the Soulsword was always right there, at eye level, whispering to her, begging her to take it up.

Her resolve, she knew, was weakening. Tonight, the sword had promised her that, if she'd take it up willingly, let it become a part of her again, the dreams would stop. After the hell she went through every night when she closed her eyes, it had almost been more tempting than she could bear, but she wasn't quite ready to give up her soul just yet.

As the worst of the nausea finally passed, she stood up, not bothering with a robe or slippers, and phased through the floor of her room into the downstairs hallway. Rubbing her tired, bloodshot eyes, she headed in the direction of the kitchen. 

Was it already a moot point?, she asked herself. Perhaps, her soul was already forfeit, and she just didn't know it.

Kitty knew she wasn't herself, that she was acting strangely. She was having periods of blackouts, now. Times when she was apparently walking around, functioning at least somewhat normally. She just didn't happen to remember any of it. Like today. 

They'd had a training session just after breakfast. Kitty had participated. She knew she had. But she didn't remember it at all. In fact, she didn't remember anything she'd done until lunchtime. And she was truly afraid she didn't want to.

Passing the door leading to the den, she saw that someone had left the TV on. She stepped inside, intending to turn it off, and noticed the two figures sprawled out on the sofa.

Peter and Rogue.

Kitty felt a twinge of yearning, mixed with a dab jealousy, a painful little twist in the vicinity of her heart, but firmly pushed it away. She had no claim on Peter anymore, if she ever had to begin with.

It was obvious they'd fallen asleep in front of the television and she wondered if she should wake them up. Rogue looked comfortable enough, stretched out the length of the sofa with her head in Peter's lap, but he didn't look particularly comfortable with his head lolling back on his neck and at least one leg probably numb. 

She stood there, torn by indecision, until she realized that Peter was awake, watching her with steady cobalt eyes.

"Hi, sleepy head. Fell asleep during the movie, did you?" she whispered. 

He yawned widely and started to stand up, until he realized Rogue was still laying on him.

"Da, and it seems that I am trapped. I do not want to wake her up, but I do not particularly want to spend the rest of the night here, either."

"Here." When she stretched out her hand to him, he visibly hesitated before taking it. Kitty phased him, allowing him to slip out from under Rogue without waking her. "You'd better take her upstairs. If she sleeps on that all night, she won't be able to move in the morning."

Peter's eyes met hers for a moment, almost questioningly, and Kitty felt her face flush as she quickly looked away, though she wasn't sure why. Then, without another word, he turned away, scooped Rogue up and left. 

With a sigh, Kitty bent down to retrieve the empty popcorn bowl that had fallen on the floor and also paused to gather up the empty drink glasses on her way to the kitchen.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Peter carried Rogue up the stairs and down the hall to her room, carefully laying her down on her bed and covering her with a blanket. She never so much as twitched the entire time, remaining sound asleep. 

She was a good friend to him, had listened patiently as he poured out his heart about his relationship with Kitty, what he hoped for, what he was afraid they would never be able to have. If anyone here could have any idea what he was going through, how he felt, it would be Rogue. 

In her relationship with Remy, the two of them had been through nearly as much as he and Kitty, had faced tragedy, betrayal, and separation, and still managed to come through it together. Peter wanted the same chance for himself and the woman he still loved very much.

Rogue had listened with quiet sympathy to everything he had to say, had commiserated with his plight, and had then answered his question in three simple words: talk to each other. It was, she had said, what she and Remy had learned the hard way that they had to do, if they wanted to stay together. And they were surprised at how much it helped to just sit down together and get everything out in the open.

Closing Rogue's door as he left her to sleep, Peter made his way down the hall to his own room. Once inside, he undressed, pulling on his pajama bottoms and continued to ponder his current situation as he dropped down wearily to sit on the edge of his bed.

Of course they needed to talk. It was just so difficult to get Kitty to listen to him. Lately, she had done her very best to avoid him. When she shut him out in that manner, he didn't know how to get through to her. 

She was a strong willed woman, had been so even as a girl, and if she didn't want to talk to him, he doubted he could force her. But he wasn't ready to give up, either Surely, there was still something between them that could be salvaged.

There had to be.

Taking a deep breath and making a quick decision, Peter rose and headed back downstairs, determined to try one more time.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Kitty dropped the dirty items in the dishwasher, took a bottle of mineral water out of the fridge, and returned to the den.

Plopping down on the sofa, she picked up the remote and began to channel surf, trying to find something interesting to watch at two a.m., which did not prove to be an easy task.

Her choices finally came down to deciding between an infomercial for an amazing new egg peeler, and some bald guy extolling the virtues of spray on hair in a can. Shaking her head in disgusted amazement, Kitty was making a second round through the various channels, when the remote was firmly, but gently removed from her hand.

She whirled around to find Peter, now dressed in his pajamas, sitting very close to her. Her heart skipped a beat, then started up again, doing double time. 

"I thought you went to bed." She said it almost as an accusation, as she tried to put some distance between them. Having him this close, with the rest of the household asleep and no one else around, made her decidedly uncomfortable. 

_Why are you fighting this? He belongs to you._

__The voice whispered in her ear, turning the blood in her veins to ice as her heart hammered in her chest. She had to get rid of Peter, had to get him away from her. Now.

"I thought perhaps we could talk." He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. Seeing the hurt that flashed into his eyes, she told herself to ignore it, even though it broke her heart. If she had to hurt him to keep him safe, she would.

"Peter, I really don't think we have anything to talk about. You should go to bed, get some sleep. We've got an early training session again tomorrow." Kitty was surprised at how cool she sounded, when inside she was screaming. Turning away from him, she picked up the remote again and went back to surfing the cable stations.

"Katya, I know there is something wrong. Please..." 

He had to leave. She had to get rid of him. It was too hard to be this close to him and pretend she wasn't affected by his presence, his nearness. She was going to break down if he kept talking to her. It was killing her, hearing the pleading in his voice, wanting to tell him so badly, and knowing that she dare not. 

Channeling her pain and frustration into anger and consciously directing it toward Peter, Kitty turned on him.

"It's **nothing**! I just had a nightmare. I'm not sleeping well and I just want everybody to leave...me...**alone**!"

As she lashed out at him, Peter's face fell. He bowed his head dejectedly and Kitty felt the tears burning at the back of her eyes.

"I only want to help."

He reached for her again, and she forced herself to shrug him off, to ignore what she was doing to him, the pain she was causing him, though it cost her to do so.

"Please, Peter." she replied tiredly, combing her fingers through her hair in agitation. "Just go. I don't want to talk to you." Kitty had force herself meet his eyes, then, as she spoke her next words with slow deliberation. "I don't want your friendship...Do you understand?"

For a few seconds, he said nothing, only stared at her, unbelieving. Then his eyes turned hard as flint, his voice flat and cold when he spoke, with none of it's normal warmth.

"Da. I understand."

Without another word, he was gone. 

Kitty waited until she was sure he was far away before she buried her face against the sofa back and sobbed. 

**********************************************************************************************************************

"Ah still think you're makin' a mistake, 'Roro." Rogue reiterated firmly, moving the food on her plate around idly with her fork as she scowled up at her team leader, who sat across the table.

Ororo sighed heavily, resisting the urge to rub her throbbing temple. Must she have this conversation with every member of the household, over and over again?

"Rogue, I understand your position and, in different circumstances, I would agree with you. But not this time. I stand by my initial decision. Kitty, I feel, is better off keeping to her current plans to move to Muir with Rhane, or to stay here for the moment."

From beside her, Tessa, who had been listening quietly to the ongoing debate between her two team mates, finally spoke up.

"I must say, I fail to follow your logic, Storm." the dark haired woman put in. "Granted, Shadowcat has been acting somewhat oddly of late, but that is certainly not unusual for the X-Men in general, or this team in particular." 

On the other side of the table, near the end, Betsy Braddock, who until now had been steadfastly ignoring the entire discussion, nearly choked on her steamed vegetables as she tried to stifle a bark of laughter, earning her a glare from Ororo, and a grin from Rogue.

"Well, you must admit," The purple-haired ninja gave her leader the sweetest, most innocent, smile she could muster. "Sage has a point. It's not like the rest of us tend to be all that emotionally stable, either."

"Yeah. Just take a look at the few of us here at the table." Rogue jumped back in enthusiastically, now that she seemed to have garnered some allies. "Ah've got more people in my head than Sybil, Betsy's wearin' somebody else's body, along with all that Crimson Dawn crap lurkin' around in her head, and Tessa here's a walkin' Palm Pilot that worked for the Hellfire Club for the last decade or so. Face it, girl. We all got issues. But we're goin'. So, why should Kit be any different?"

"And", Betsy interjected then, a wicked gleam in her eye. She loved a good debate, and she agreed with Rogue. Kitty should be going with them. "That's just the three of us." Propping her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her hands and batted her lashes at their team leader. "Would you like us to go down the list for you, Bishop, Neal, and Hank?"

"That will not be necessary." Storm replied dryly, sending Betsy and Rogue both a rather arch look. "And yes, I know we all have our specific problems to contend with. How could we not, considering the life we live? But, for Kitty, this type of behavior is not exactly normal, even under more stressful circumstances than these."

Betsy regarded the regal African intensely, setting down her fork and turning away from her plate to address her. "Ororo, is there something going on with Kitty that you're not telling us? This just doesn't seem like you. Of all of us, I would think she would be the first one you'd want in on this."

"From the purely logical standpoint of team dynamics," Tessa added, also turning toward Ororo. "it would make sense to include her. We have a wealth of raw power, of fighting strength and skill with Rogue, Bishop, Thunderbird, Psylocke, and yourself. Yet, I am the only support oriented member. I can fight, if the need arises, but who would take my place if I were incapacitated? Shadowcat is one of those rare individuals who posses formidable fighting skills, both mutation and non-mutation based, along with a genius level, technically oriented, intellect."

With a grin and a wink in Tessa's direction, Rogue interrupted. "In other words, the rest of us are just muscle and we need more brains in the outfit. Ah can live with that. Besides, Ah think Kit and Tessa'd make a good team."

"Absolutely." Betsy agreed, giving the other two women an almost parental look of approval. "Sage, for all intents and purposes, is a living computer. Shadowcat is an undisputed computer genius, a technical and electronic master. What Tessa can theorize, Kitty can make reality. It should be a no-brainer. And I really haven't heard anything in what you've said so far that I would consider a good enough reason to exclude her. In fact, the very points you've brought up only support bringing her along. If for no other reason than to get her out of this angst-ridden madhouse." 

"And that's not even takin' inta account what the girl can do in a fight." Rogue continued. "Ah'd wager she could hold her own, and then some, with most anybody in this outfit."

Pushing her half-eaten lunch aside, Ororo turned to the other three women at the table. It hadn't been her intention that their meal turn into an impromptu discussion concerning the soon-to-be-departing team, but since it had, she might as well lay everything out. 

She had heard everything all three women had said. In fact, she had debated the very same issues with herself, but one thing always seemed to outweigh all others. Kitty's behavior was becoming erratic to the extreme and she couldn't baby-sit both her and Rogue. But she wasn't about to say that out loud at this point.

"Very well." she sighed. "You all want to know why I feel she should not come with us, at least right now? Then I will tell you. I see the same thing happening with Kitty that happened to Peter. She has suffered one loss after another and she is bottling everything up inside, because she feels overwhelmed. You have all recently born witness to her abrupt, and occasionally violent, mood swings, her slow but steady withdrawal from us."

She gave them a moment to absorb what she was saying and saw them all nod somewhat reluctantly. "We failed Peter miserably, continuing to send him out on missions, even when his sister was dying, ignoring his mounting emotional problems because we needed him on the team. And look what happened."

Rogue and Betsy exchanged a knowing look and Rogue's expression softened as she reached across the table with one gloved hand, laying it gently over Ororo's. 

"Ororo, ya can't blame yourself for what happened with Peter. We all saw it, but didn't want'a deal with it. We all failed him, me and Betts included. Hell, I knew he was headin' for a fall, but Ah was too wrapped up in my own problems with Remy to try an' do anything about it. But Kitty's not Peter. Her needs are different."

"In a few days, she will be leaving for Muir Island, to stay with Rhane and attend college." The white haired mutant continued as though Rogue hadn't spoken, riding roughshod over her opinions. "I feel that is for the best. For now. She and Rhane share a close bond and will be able to help one another through their difficulties." **_Since she will not accept any help from Peter,_** she added silently. 

Despite the others continued protests and attempts to convince her otherwise, Storm remained firm on her standing, convinced she was making the correct decision. "Later, if she wishes to join us, I will be more than happy to have her. But I will **not** see what happened with Peter happen to Kitty. Her well being is more important than this team or the Diaries."

Rogue sighed, seeing that further argument was useless, but not willing to give up just yet. Why did the woman have to be so damned stubborn?

"That brings me to another point all together. Irene's Diaries." As Ororo had done before, she pushed her plate away, leaning back to regard the older woman seriously. "She left that Diary to Kitty for a reason. And it wasn't just so she could bring it ta you or Xavier. Kit's connected to 'em in some way that we can't see yet. Maybe even more'n Ah am. Ah just have this feelin' that she's supposed ta be on this team and, if she's ain't, we may not be able ta do what we set out for. Ah have a real bad feelin' about leavin' her behind."

"Be that as it may, my decision is made." Her flat, warning tone, the flicker of irritation in ice blue eyes, said, in no uncertain terms, that she would entertain no further debate on this particular issue. "If you disagree with me, you are under no obligation to join us when we leave." 

Wrapping herself in the invisible cloak of the regal weather goddess, Storm abruptly pushed her chair back from the table, stood, and strode out of the room, the other three women watching her departure in silence.

Irritated, Rouge turned back to her tablemates, arms crossed over her chest, her face set in an irritated scowl.

"Ah swear, sometimes that woman's got a stick up her ass as big as the one Cyclops used ta have."

Betsy shook her head, sighing in frustration. "Ororo has blinders on when it concerns someone as close to her as Kitty is. She feels she didn't intervene enough with Peter, so she's doing the complete opposite with Kitty and trying to make her decisions for her, protect her from the big, bad world. She's just not taking their differences in personality into account, which is sure to lead to disaster."

Having been about the only one to actually finish her lunch, Sage spoke up for the first time in a while. She hadn't been with the team all that long and was still trying to sort through all the complicated and confusing interpersonal relationships.

"According to her files, Kitty joined the X-Men quite young and it seems that Ororo became something of a Mother figure to her. Parents are often blind, to a certain extent, to the fact that their children have grown up and are capable of thinking and acting for themselves."

"Oh, yes." Betsy confirmed. "And Storms stubborn refusal to acknowledge that Kitty is an adult, that she can think and decide for herself, has hurt their relationship. Ororo just refuses to see that."

"Well, Ah still say she's wrong." Rogue clung stubbornly to her opinion. She knew she was right and she didn't intend to back down. "An' Ah have a really bad feelin' that, if we leave Kitty behind, we're gonna be sorry later."

Betsy nodded. She had some of the same feelings and certainly agreed that Ororo was being a stubborn ass about this. "I hope you're wrong, Rogue, but I'm afraid you aren't. I'd feel better if Kitty were coming with us, for her fighting skills if nothing else. No offense to you, but we can't always count on being in a situation where we can use our powers. It'd be nice to have someone else along whose skills weren't mostly depended on their mutant abilities."

"Don't worry, Betsy. Ah know Ah'm pretty much useless without my powers. Besides, Ah'm a brawler. So's Bishop. We got no finesse what so ever. An' Neal just don't have enough experience or control yet to do much but blow stuff sky high. But you and Kit are precision, you two can get in and clean house without stirring up the dust on the floor, with or without your powers. And Ah think we're gonna need all the help we can get."

"It's a shame that we cannot seem to convince Storm to take her." Sage put in. "I haven't had much of a chance to get to know her and I was looking forward to seeing her in action, after all I have heard. Maybe even sparring with her, though I'm sure I'm nowhere near her," She inclined her head toward Betsy. "or your, league. Not to mention working with her on the diaries."

Rogue's smile widened as an idea occurred to her. "Well, Ah don't know if Ah can help ya with the rest of it, but a sparring match sounds like fun. We haven't done anythin' like that in forever." She looked to Betsy for her reaction. "What'cha think, Betts? Maybe even get Ororo in on it. That woman either needs to beat the crap out of somethin' or get laid."

"Girls only?" Betsy looked at her two companions as they nodded. "Great! Let's go find Kitty."

**********************************************************************************************************************

Rogue was in the control booth, watching the other four women as they entered the Danger Room. Punching a sequence into the computers, she leaned over to speak into the microphone in front of her. 

"Ok, ladies. What'll it be? We got jungle, warehouse, loadin' dock, alien planet, city street, or my personal favorite, bar room."

Down on the floor, Storm, Shadowcat, Sage, and Psylocke debated among themselves.

"I guess we need to decide who's going first, then they can pick whatever setting they want." Kitty suggested.

"How many rounds?" Psylocke asked as she examined her sword. 

The four women had agreed to forego their powers, using only their own fighting skills, with the exception of Tessa , whose powers and learned skills were so inextricably intertwined that she couldn't really **not** use them. No one really minded, though, as she was the least experienced of the four in hand to hand combat.

"One with each opponent. The overall winner will take on Rogue, no holds barred, powers active." Storm replied.

"Why don't Storm and I take the first round?" Sage looked to the rest of the assembled X-Women for agreement and they all nodded. "Very well. Storm, what setting would you prefer."

"Jungle, I think."

"C'mon, Betsy. We'll go up and watch from the control booth 'til it's our turn." 

As Kitty and Betsy left the room, Sage called up to Rogue.

"Rogue, please load the Jungle sequence."

Almost instantly the blank room was completely transformed into a verdant jungle, complete with thick brush, massive trees, vines, even the call of wild animals overhead and in the distance. 

The two fighters began rather tentatively, Sage unused to unarmed, hand to hand, Storm unsure of the exact skill level of her opponent. They circled one another warily for several seconds, surreptitiously taking in the details of their surroundings, before either committed to making the first move.

When it came, it was from Tessa, who swept down low, surprising Ororo and nearly knocking her legs out from under her. Storm managed to dodge at the last minute and the combat began in earnest, arms and legs flying as the two fighters struck out or countered one another's moves, each looking for a weakness to exploit in the other.

"She's better'n Ah figured she'd be." Rogue observed, impressed with Sage's initial performance against the vastly more experienced Storm. "Ah figured Ororo'd have her down and out in no time, but she's holdin' her own."

Below them, Sage dodged a roundhouse kick from Storm, ducking down and spinning around quickly to pop back up inside the other woman's defenses, delivering a blow to her midsection that had the weather mutant doubling over reflexively.

It proved to be a near fatal mistake, as Sage took the opportunity to grab her, flipping her over onto her back. 

"Storm's underestimating her." Kitty said with a shake of her head. "That was a stupid mistake. She knows better." 

"Ninja rule number one." Psylocke started and Kitty joined in, both women repeating the phrase simultaneously. "Regardless of the situation, always treat your opponent as if he is more skilled than you are."

Laughing, Rogue shook her head in mock disbelief. "Y'all are scary."

"We know." They both replied in unison once again.

"Ah rest my case." 

Betsy and Kitty grinned at each other, giggling like schoolgirls.

"We're gonna kick their butts, you know." Kitty observed matter-of-factly.

"Of course." Betsy replied.

"What happened to Ninja rule number one?" Rogue wondered, her eyes still glued to the action below.

Kitty shrugged. "Just because we treat them that way, doesn't mean it's true."

Suddenly, Rogue squealed as Sage managed to kick Storm's feet out from under her, sending her slamming to the ground. She barely avoided being pinned by the other woman, rolling out of the way at the last minute.

"Damn, this is better than WWF Saturday night. Why didn't we do this sooner?"

"Maybe because we've been doing too much of it for real against the villain du jour lately?" Betsy guessed.

"That'd be my guess." Kitty agreed. "But, I gotta admit, this is fun. I'm gonna miss you guys when you leave." Her brow suddenly knit together as a thought struck her. "Wonder why none of the guys will ever spar with me? Well, except for Logan, but he isn't really any fun, what with his healing factor and unbreakable bones."

Turning from the viewing windows, Rogue rolled her eyes at her friend. "Sugah, I think you just answered your own question on that one."

"Well, as for Sage, Rogue, and myself, Kitty, we wish you were coming with us. We think Storm's making a mistake leaving you behind."

Kitty smiled gratefully at her two friends. She'd been a little reluctant at first, when they'd come to ask her to join their sparring match, but now she was really glad she'd agreed. She felt more like herself than she had in days. And after last night's encounter with Peter, the lighthearted banter, and assorted pummeling, was just what she needed.

"Thanks, Betts, Rogue. I really appreciate it, but I think Ororo's right. I need a break from all this for a while. Maybe once I get my head straightened out, I'll look you guys up."

"Well," Rogue began, crossing her arms over her chest, still a little ticked off by their leader's attitude at lunch. "she coulda at least gave ya the option."

Kitty was still smiling at Rogue's righteous indignation when Betsy walked over to lay a hand on her shoulder. Turning toward the violet eyed ninja, the younger woman could read the concern on her friends face.

"Kitty, you know if you need someone to talk to, I'm here. Any time. Just say the word. I know the last few months have been bloody miserable for you."

Shadowcat lay her hand over Betsy's, giving it a gentle squeeze of silent thanks and acknowledgment. Of all the X-Men, except for Logan, Psylocke most likely knew her best. After all, they'd spent a significant amount of time inside one another's head. Literally.

When Betsy first joined the X-Men, she'd been in the young Kitty's mind for weeks, trying to hold her together while Reed Richards and Doctor Doom worked out a way to keep her from discorporating. That, combined with Kitty's time in Excalibur, where Betsy had frequently visited her twin brother, had forged a special bond between them that was unlike any other friendship she had.

"Yeah, they have, but I think it's something I've got to deal with myself, though I appreciate the offer. And I might just take you up on it sometime. You just never know."

Before Betsy could reply, Rouge gave a loud whoop, drawing their attention back to the two women battling in the Danger Room in time to see Storm grab Sage's leg as she kicked out at her. 

The white haired mutant, who often looked, and acted, like the goddess she was once believed to be, had actually grown up fighting on the streets of Cairo. She could be lethal when the situation called for it. Using the other woman's momentum against her, Storm flung her to the ground and had her pinned in the next instant to the cheers of her friends watching from above.

"Whoo Hoo!" Rogue yelled into the microphone. "Way to go, 'Ro!" Turning to the other two women in the room, she eyed them speculatively. "All right, ladies, who's next?"

Kitty and Betsy looked at one another and shrugged.

"I'll go." Betsy offered, heading out the door just as a sweaty, out of breath Sage came into the control booth.

As Rogue fiddled with the computer console, changing the Danger Room setting to warehouse, Kitty turned to Sage.

"You're good. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

Sage dropped into a nearby chair, holding her side as she tried to catch her breath.

"As I've been trying to tell you people all along, I trained to fight in this room just like you did. Only I trained alone or against simulations. And my mutation gives me the ability to analyze an opponents fighting style and calculate their most probable moves and plan of attack. Makes it a lot easier to counter it, if you know what's coming."

She favored Kitty with a rare smile, which Kitty returned. She hadn't had much of a chance to get to know Tessa, but she seemed like an extremely interesting woman. And she could definitely relate to the walking computer thing. It was a mutation Kitty herself wouldn't mind having.

"Very useful talent. It's just hard to think of you as being one of the X-Men, when we got so used to seeing you as one of the enemy." The chestnut haired woman shrugged lightly. "But we'll get over it."

"Eventually." Rogue added dryly, prompting Kitty to stick her tongue out at the skunk-haired girl. "Hey, y'all really outta see this. They're really goin' to it down there."

Conversation came to an abrupt halt as all three women turned their attention to the match below them. It was obvious that these were two very skilled opponents, but it soon became apparent that Psylocke was doing slightly better than Storm.

Moving as quickly as Storm's vaunted lightning, Psylocke punched and kicked, arms and legs moving at blinding speed that the team leader was hard pressed to keep up with. Even more to her advantage was the fact that Betsy was making use of all the items scattered throughout the warehouse setting. She leapt from tables, used chair as blocks, and, occasionally, weapons. 

Storm, as Sage had been when fighting her, was holding her own, but that was about all. Psylocke was simply out of the weather mutants' league when powers were not a factor. Where Ororo had let herself become dependent on her powers, not developing her fighting skills as she could have, Betsy considered her ninja training one of her best assets and kept them honed to a fine edge. In the end, Kitty knew that Storm would be beaten.

But the weather mutant wasn't going to go down without a fight. She managed to counter a good measure of Betsy's skill and experience with pure, devious cunning, keeping furniture and boxes between them, maneuvering the other woman into tight spaces, where movement was limited, and occasionally resorting to plain old, down and dirty, street fighting tactics. 

The three of them were so caught up in the action of the ongoing battle that they didn't hear the door to the control room open, didn't know there was anyone else about, until a gruff voice spoke up from behind them.

"I was wonderin' where all the women got to. Now I know. Ya came down here ta kill each other."

Kitty and Rogue turned at the same time to find Logan, with Kurt trailing just behind, standing just inside the door.

"Hey, Logan, Kurt. Find a space and enjoy the entertainment. It's shaping up to be a really good bout." Kitty told him, waving them inside. She flashed a smile at Kurt and was surprised when he returned it only half-heartedly, looking a little uneasy. 

**_What's up with that? _**

_****_Shrugging it off, she went back to watching Psylocke slowly and methodically take Storm down.

**********************************************************************************************************************

By the time Shadowcat and Sage had taken the floor, the control booth had acquired even more spectators as word spread that games were afoot. Everyone was choosing sides and good naturedly cheering on their chosen champion. 

Again, Kitty was surprised at how good Tessa actually was in hand to hand combat. Though the outcome of their match was never really in doubt, the young ninja found that her opponent learned very quickly, never making the same mistake twice and getting better and better as the match went on.

**_Geez, if Logan'd work with her for a few months, she'd be awesome. Maybe better than even me or Betsy._**

_****_Kitty and Tessa had decided to keep the warehouse scenario, and Kitty executed a powerful flip off a table and over Tessa's head to land behind her, dropping down and using her leg to sweep the other woman off her feet as she tried to turn. 

Sage went down briefly, but was up again before Kitty could pin her, dropping into a roll, trying to come up inside Kitty's defenses to deliver a blow to her shoulder. Shadowcat blocked the move efficiently, grabbing her opponents arm and spinning her around, pinning her arm behind her back. 

The black haired mutant tried to shift, to get enough leverage to flip the smaller woman off of her, but Kitty hung on like a burr, waiting for an opening. It came a moment later as Sage shifted her balance to try another tactic. Taking immediate advantage of the opportunity, she knocked Tessa's feet out from under her a second time, dropping her full length on the ground, face first, her arm still twisted behind her, and Kitty's foot on the back of her neck.

After a couple of seconds, Kitty released her, stepping back and holding out her hand to help the other woman to her feet to the loud cheering and cat calls from the spectators overhead.

Tessa stood and bowed politely, surprising Kitty, who promptly returned the gesture.

"You are an excellent fighter. I had heard you were good, but I believe that was quite an understatement. How long have you studied martial arts?"

Kitty, who'd been bent over, catching her breath, straightened up to look at the other woman.

"Since I was about fourteen."

"I would say you have a natural talent for the combat style to have achieved your level of skill in nine years. I've known people who studied for a lifetime without acquiring a fraction of your ability."

Kitty smiled, her eyes twinkling a little mischievously. "Well, you could say I had a bit of help. A...jump start, you might call it. As well as a really good teacher." Before Sage could question her further, the younger girl quickly changed the subject. "What next? I'll leave it up to you to decide. You can go ahead and take Betsy on, or I'll have my match with Ororo."

"And what of you and Betsy?" Sage was eager to see the two ninja's combat one another. Even after analyzing everything she'd seen so far, she had no clear picture of which one might come out the winner.

"Oh, Betts and I are saving each other for last," Shadowcat told her with a wink and a grin.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Since Sage decided, as she put it, "to go ahead and get my last beating over with", Kitty went back up to the control room as Betsy took her place below. 

Or, at least she **tried** to go to the control room. An action made rather difficult considering that every person currently in residence at the mansion seemed to be stuffed into the small room at the moment. 

"Good grief, what the heck's going on in here?" Kitty groused as she squeezed through the door and was immediately forced to plaster herself against the wall. 

"Hey, Darlin'!" Logan called to her from somewhere that sounded like the middle of the room, but she couldn't tell for sure. "Lookin' good out there."

Waving in the general direction she thought he might be, Kitty turned, trying to catch sight of Rogue. "Rogue? Are you still in here?" she called out, unable to see the control panel, much less her friend who was supposed to be operating it.

"Just barely." came the slightly muffled reply. "But **somebody** better get their hand off my butt before they loose an arm."

"Sorry." This from Bobby, who apparently was wedged behind Rogue. "I'm not doing it on purpose."

"Yeah, right, Popsicle. Ah really believe that."

"I'm not!" came his indignant reply to Rogue skeptical statement. 

"Kit, can you **please** get me outta here. Ah think Ah'm havin' a panic attack. An' if Ah loose it, **somebody's** gonna get hurt."

"Hey, I said I was sorry!"

"Hang on, Rogue. I'll be there in a second." Kitty turned and ended up with a face full of furry, blue, Henry McCoy. "Sorry, Hank." She smiled apologetically.

"No harm done, Katherine." The huge, blue, furry Beast grinned down at her engagingly. "And may I say what splendid entertainment you ladies are providing."

"Thanks." She replied with a laugh. Kitty adored Hank. She didn't see how anybody could not adore Hank. He was one of the happiest people she knew. "Now, if you'll pardon me, I have to go rescue Rogue before she removes one of Bobby's vital body parts."

"Of course." He replied genially. "I could not, in good conscience, allow my erstwhile frozen friend to come to any undue harm by detaining you."

Still laughing, she phased herself thorough Hank, and what seemed like at least half of the rest of the team, until she made her way to where Rogue was trapped at the front of the booth. 

"Here I am, the faithful Shadowcat, at your service." 

"Thank Gawd." Rogue declared. "Just phase me through the floor, if ya don't mind, Kitty. I'll just hang around out there outta the way 'til y'all are done."

"Okey dokey." Kitty shrugged. Then, placing her hand on her friends shoulder, she phased her until her body sunk through the floor of the control booth and out of sight. 

True to her word, Rogue floated in mid-air, legs crossed lotus style, and watched the rest of the match between Betsy and Sage.

Shadowcat tried to look around her, without much success, and realized that, since Rogue had left, she was left as monitor.

"Well, that was a dirty trick." she mumbled to herself, automatically checking the console that monitored the vital signs of the combatants. Finding everything in order, she tried to turn toward the computer bank on the left, the one that controlled the holographic scenery. 

She knew Betsy preferred a dojo setting, just as she did. As their bout would be right after Kitty and Storm's, she intended to call up one of her personal settings, since Rogue hadn't included that particular scenario in the programs she'd initially loaded.

Boxed in as she was, Kitty realized too late that turning was nearly impossible and she lost her balance, felt herself tipping over. Just as she was about to phase in order to not fall into her nearest neighbor and begin a domino effect that would probably take out everybody in the tiny room, two strong hands took her by the waist, setting her upright and steadying her on her feet.

She looked up to find herself pressed tightly against Peter, his hands still resting on her waist as he gazed down at her. Every bone in her body seemed to instantly turn to so much jello.

"Thanks." 

"You are welcome." 

Unable to break contact, Kitty found she herself drowning in those deep blue eyes, the room around them seeming to fade slowly away leaving just the two of them. Peter apparently felt it as well, since he made no move to release her or take his gaze from her face. Indeed, after a moment, his grip on her tightened slightly and he moved closer, pressing her back against the computer console, trapping her between the machinery and his body. 

God, she'd forgotten how good it felt to be close to him, how much she'd missed him. But it all came flooding back now. All the need, and desire, and love she'd once had for this man. Still had, if she were honest with herself. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Clearing her throat, she tried again, with little more success, though she did manage to squeak out a few words.

"Peter...I..." Her voice trailed off and Kitty wasn't really sure what she'd been about to say. Maybe "I'm sorry", or "I didn't mean to hurt you". Maybe even "I still love you", but she really wasn't sure. Her head was so muddled, all she really knew was that, for the first time in months, she felt as if she were where she belonged. 

Before she could try to say anything else, Peter's hand was cupping her cheek, his palm warm and gentle against her skin and Kitty couldn't stop herself from leaning into his touch. She didn't want to stop herself, even though, in the back of her mind, a little voice whispered to her that she was only setting them both up for more heartache.

"Katya..."

Her name came out almost as a sigh as his arm slipped around her, his thumb feathering across her cheek in a gentle caress as he slowly leaned toward her. Kitty long, dark lashes drifted down as she tilted her face up to him, waiting for their lips to meet, her heart racing.

At that moment, the room erupted in a cacophony of noise, their team mates cheering and yelling as, below, Psylocke ended her match with Sage by skillfully incapacitating her opponent. 

The sound crashed through her senses and, as quickly as it had happened, it was over, the spell between them broken as the world around them came rushing back. Kitty's eyes flew open, the realization or what was happening making her flush in embarrassment, unable to even look at his face, afraid of what she would see there. 

Without a word, she closed her eyes tightly and phased through the control booth, the molecules of her body slipping between those of the floor until she was floating, slowly descending into the Danger Room. Fighting the sudden sting of tears, Kitty mentally cursed herself. Why couldn't she just get over him? Why did she keep putting herself through this over and over again? She really couldn't handle any more stress right now. As it was, she felt like she was standing on the edge of the abyss. One wrong move, and she would go over.

Touching down lightly on the floor, she took a moment to compose herself, unaware that she was being watched with curiosity and concern by her teammates, both above her and with her in the room below. 

"Kit? You OK?"

The voice originated from above her and she opened her eyes, looking up to find Rogue hovering over her head, her face creased in a frown of worry.

"Yeah, Rogue. I'm fine, just a little tired."

"Kitty, if you don't want to keep going, it's fine." This from Psylocke, who was now standing next to her, her hand on Kitty's arm as she studied her face closely.

"You do look rather pale, Katherine." Even Sage, who rarely showed emotion, was looking at her as if she expected her to keel over at any moment. "Are you sure you're not ill?"

"No." She took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it, forcing her mind and body to calm itself as Logan had taught her so long ago. Kitty repeated this exercise several times, until she felt more like herself again. "I'm fine. Better now."

Opening her eyes, she smiled at her friends, who were still giving her odd looks. After a few more seconds, though, they apparently decided she wasn't about to drop dead on them and they all relaxed. 

"Come on, Sage." Betsy slung an arm around the other woman's shoulder companionably, making Tessa decidedly uncomfortable, much to Psylocke's delight. "Let's go up to the control booth and watch Kitty kick Storm's butt."

**********************************************************************************************************************

Kitty was doing some mild stretches to loosen up as Ororo walked in, wearing her new costume, the black one with the yellow zig-zag stripe. It reminded the younger woman of a swimsuit with the legs cut so high they were almost up to her arm pits. And, of course, the matching cape and high-heeled boots that came up to her thighs. 

Shadowcat wondered for at least the millionth time since joining the X-Men how anyone could fight in a cape and high heels. It was just so corny.

Of course, Betsy's new outfit also had high heeled boots, and what looked like garter belts holding them up, making the whole thing resemble something out of Frederick's of Hollywood, but at least there wasn't a cape. 

**_What's next? Matching tiaras? Or maybe corsets? Now that would be interesting. Especially on the guys._**

Right now, Kitty was wearing the solid black leather fighting rig she'd last worn when she was with Excalibur, but with everybody else changing their look, she thought she should, too. And she was never one to be left behind in the costume department. There was a time when she'd been infamous for her outrageous uniform designs. 

Her new uniform was waiting for her in the locker room. She planned on changing for her bout with Psylocke, wanting to check it out for ease of movement, and she knew their combat would be more intense than the rest. It would be a perfect opportunity to get an idea how it would feel in a real battle.

Just because she wasn't planning on being with the X-Men full time much longer didn't mean fashion had to go out the window.

"Kitty, you look rather pale. Are feeling all right?"

She looked up at Ororo from where she was bent over, making an effort to smile at the older woman instead of biting her head off. The two women hadn't exactly been on the best of terms lately and Kitty knew it was just as much her fault as it was Storm's. 

"I'm fine, Ororo. Really. Just haven't been sleeping too well the last few nights." Kitty straightened up as Storm continued to watch her intently.

"Are you sure? 

"Yep." Kitty replied tightly, her smile firmly plastered to her face. "You ready?"

"Whenever you are."

Kitty bowed out of habit, and they began.

It had been quite a while since she and Storm had sparred and Kitty knew right away that Ororo was going to make the same mistake with her that she'd made with Sage. She was underestimating her. And, for Shadowcat, it was an insult. She took it personally.

**_No problem. She doesn't believe I can beat her. Fine. Time to teach "Mom" Ninja rule number 1._**

_****_

**********************************************************************************************************************

Up in the control booth, a debate was raging between the mostly male audience.

"Looks like Shadowcat's not gonna make it through this one." Bobby observed to no one in particular.

"Doesn't look too good for her, does it?" Neal Sharra replied from next to Iceman as he watched the two women spar. He still had a nice bruise on his left knee courtesy of the younger woman, but he wasn't holding a grudge. After all, he had made a stupid mistake that could have gotten someone seriously hurt, though he felt like she may have over-reacted just a bit. "But Storm has been doing this longer than Kitty. It stands to reason she would be a better fighter."

Behind Neal, Besty snorted, shaking her head in amusement. She glanced across the room, catching Logan's eye as he gave her a wink and a grin.

"I'm not so sure Kitty is at her best right now. She's making mistakes that I don't believe she would normally make. Maybe she's getting tired." Bishop added, regarding the young woman thoughtfully. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the girl was throwing the fight.

"She's not even fighting as well with Storm as she did during our match." Sage too was watching Kitty, puzzled. From everything else she'd observed previously, Shadowcat was now fighting well below her ability. It didn't make sense.

Logan listened quietly, letting the speculation continue for a while before he finally spoke up.

"'Cat's just playin' with 'er."

"Logan's right. She's setting Ororo up for a fall." Psylocke threw her opinion into the mix as well, and several of their team mates regarded them both skeptically. Betsy simply shrugged, unperturbed. "If you don't believe us, just keep watching."

**********************************************************************************************************************

Though Kitty had no idea what was going on above her, Betsy had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when Ororo executed a sloppy block to one of Kitty's jabs and dropped her guard. It was all the opening the younger girl needed.

The look of surprise on Storm's face was priceless as Kitty caught her with a scissor kick, knocking her badly off balance. Before she could recover, Shadowcat whirled around, jabbing her in the ribs. As the weather mutant tried to twist away, Kitty grabbed one edge of her flowing cape and effectively wrapped the woman up like a mummy, trapping her in her own costume. 

With her arm around her opponents throat, the difference in the two women's height forcing Storm to bow over backwards, Kitty put her mouth near her friend's ear.

"And that's why wearing a cape into battle is a really stupid idea, Storm." she whispered, grinning wickedly, before releasing Ororo.

The regal weather mutant stood, carefully untangling herself from her cape. Hands on her hips, she shook out her hair, giving Kitty her most haughty look.

"Young lady..." she began sternly, but then broke into a wide grin, walking over to Kitty and putting her arm around the younger woman. "I believe you are right!"

**********************************************************************************************************************

Everyone in the control room, except for Logan and Betsy, was staring down in shock at what had just happened, most of them with their mouths hanging open, a few snickering as Storm was trussed up in her own clothing like a Christmas goose.

Betsy and Logan laughed, sharing a conspiratal look, then said in unison: "Told ya."

**********************************************************************************************************************

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, time to place your bets." Bobby rubbed his hands together gleefully as he looked around the still packed control booth. "Hank, what're the odds on this one?"

In the corner, Hank McCoy flipped through a small note pad. "Ah, here we go. We have Psylocke favored to win, odds two to one."

Rogue rolled her eyes, Storm just looked disgusted, and Sage appeared to be lost in thought as the men in the room began calling out amounts and choices.

"Put me down for 50.00 on Kit." Logan growled as he was jostled in the close confines. 

"I will take 20.00 on Katzchen as well." Even Kurt had finally seemed to pull himself out of his blue mood and was getting into the spirit of the games.

"I'll take 40.00 on Betsy."

"Me, too."

"Ok," Bobby was writing it all down as the bets were called out. "that's forty on Betsy for Bishop and Neal, fifty on Kitty for Logan, and twenty on Kitty for Kurt. Anybody else?" He looked around the room, his amused light blue eyes falling on the three women. "Hey, how about you Storm, or Rogue?"

"Ah don't think so, Popsicle."

"Nor, I, Robert. This is childish."

To everyone's complete surprise, Sage suddenly spoke up.

"I would like to place 100.00 on Katherine, please, Robert."

Bobby looked a little stunned, but then shrugged and wrote it down.

As everyone's attention turned back to the windows of the control booth, Rogue shot Tessa a questioning look. 

"Ah didn't take you for a bettin' woman, Sage. What's that all about."

When Tessa turned to look at her, Rogue could have almost sworn her clear blue eyes actually twinkled, but her face was as serious as ever.

"The odds they are giving are incorrect. According to my data, both combatants are nearly evenly matched. I believe that, if either has an advantage, it is Katherine."

"And why is that?" Storm asked curiously.

"Psylocke, though to a lesser extent than many of the X-Men, has become somewhat dependent on her mutant ability in battle. Shadowcat's mutant ability is more defensively oriented, as opposed to offensively oriented, such as Storm's weather manipulation or Thunderbird's energy blasts. Therefore, she tends to depend on her own learned skills in hand to hand combat and more easily compensates for the inability to use her mutation, giving her a slight edge."

Rogue burst out laughing. "In other words, we're all so used ta dependin' on our powers that we get lazy and don't keep up with our other battle skills and that's gonna get our butts whipped eventually."

Unflappable as ever, Sage regarded her seriously. "In a word, yes."

**********************************************************************************************************************

The dojo setting was loaded, thanks to Rogue, and Betsy was already on the floor waiting for her when Kitty emerged from the locker room. 

Even though she tried not to show it, she was more than a little self conscious about unveiling her new uniform. She just knew she was blushing and was really, really glad she couldn't hear the comments being made up in the control room. 

As she took her place across from Psylocke, Betsy grinned cheekily, eyeing her up and down, delicate brows arched in surprise.

"I must say, Kitty, I definitely approve of the new costume." 

"Thanks." She blushed lightly again, and Betsy shook her head.

"Don't you dare be embarrassed. You look smashing."

Nearing her mid-twenties, Kitty had decided it was time to dress like the rest of the grown-up X-Women, even if her figure might not be quite as lush as some of theirs. And this outfit was most definitely a different look for her. She'd gone with all black, leather-like body armor, but it was nothing like any other costume she'd ever had. 

The material clung to her like a second skin, the sleeveless, v-neck, cropped top coming to just below her breasts, while the pants rode very low on her hips, with oval cutouts on the outer legs beginning at her upper thighs and ending just above her knees. It left a lot of leg, as well as other body parts, exposed, but it made for greater ease of movement. Completing the ensemble was a pair of low heeled, lace up, ankle boots, a heavy, cropped jacket, and fingerless black gloves that reached to just below her elbows acting as protection during sword play.

She'd left off the jacket for this session, but even with it on, she felt almost naked. The costume left her entire midriff bare, from just under her breasts to as low on her abdomen as possible while still allowing her to wear a pair of skimpy bikini or thong underwear. 

Though she loved the way it felt, the freedom movement it allowed her, Kitty was feeling so insecure about it now that she was actually out where people could see her, that she was beginning to rethink the whole idea.

"I'm just not sure it's me." she said with a wistful sigh. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"Trust me, gel. You have what it takes to pull it off. It's high time, in my opinion, that you stopped playing into everybody's delusion that you're still the baby of the group." The elegant Asian featured woman waved one graceful hand toward the observation booth overhead. "You're only a couple of years younger than Rogue and I. And you're older, by at least that, than Paige, Jubilee, and Sarah. I don't see anyone treating them like they're still in Junior High."

"I see your point, and appreciate the support. I may need you to repeat the performance when Logan gets hold of me, though."

"Nah. He won't be a problem. At least not for you." Betsy replied with a wink. "But God help all the guys ogling you up there in the control room right about now."

The two women shared a laugh as Rogue's voice came to them over the loud speaker.

"Are you two gonna spar, or spend the rest of th' day gabbin'?"

"Ok, Ok." Kitty called out. "Sheesh. Give a girl a minute, why don't you. You ready Betts?"

"Absolutely. You know I'm not going to pull any punches, right?" Betsy's face was serious as Kitty lips curved wickedly. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

**********************************************************************************************************************

"Oh, my...!"

"What is it, Storm? Oh...Mein...Gott."

"Holy shit! Look at the way her..."

"**Don't** say it. Don't even **think** it, Iceboy. Not if ya know what's good fer ya."

"I do believe our fair Shadowcat has procured a new costume."

"Thank you for stating the more-than-obvious, Henry. It is quite a change from the norm for her."

"Ah like it."

"Uhm, I'm fairly new here, but that **is **Kitty, isn't it? Has she **always** looked like that?"

"Yes, Neal, I believe that she has, except for the costume. I fail to see why everyone is so excited over a simple change of clothing."

"I think it's a man thing, Sugah. They can't help it...Petey, are you OK? Ya look kinda funny?"

"I believe, Rogue, that he is in shock."

"I think he's in a coma."

"I am considering joining him."

"What's the matter, 'Ro? Jealous 'cause Kit's actually showin' more skin than you this time?"

"Heck, she's showing more skin than **Betsy**!"

"Ah'm gonna tell 'em both ya said that, Bobby."

"Take my advice and run for your life now, mein freund."

"My similarly hued compatriot gives excellent advice, Robert. You should listen to him. Especially when you take into consideration that one lady was trained by S.T.R.I.K.E. and the other by Wolverine. Though they may be quite lovely, they are also quite deadly."

"An' then there's th' very real possibility that, when this big Russian here comes to, he's prob'ly gonna rip your head, or some other body part, clean off."

"If I don't get to ya first."

"Uh, Rogue, you may want to encourage the ladies to begin their match before the bloodshed begins up here."

"Good point, Bish....Are you two gonna spar, or spend the rest of th' day gabbin'?"

**********************************************************************************************************************

Bowing formally to one another, the two women immediately went into nearly identical fighting stances, as they circled one another warily, each looking for an opening, without much success.

The seasoned ninja's spent several minutes feeling one another out, analyzing each other's fighting style and adapting their own movements to match as they circled, spun, punched and kicked. This wasn't serious fighting, it was a test. Know thine enemy as thy self.

Psylocke had a noticeably more elegant, refined fighting style, while Shadowcat was stealth, suprise, and speed. And neither lacked for either raw power or skill. They were very evenly matched, which became evident as the battle was joined in earnest.

Both women had agreed that they wouldn't be pulling any punches, that they would be treating this match as an actual battle and the sheer ferocity of some of the blows that were landed had the observers noticeably wincing. Kitty and Betsy knew they would feel the effects of their combat the next morning, but for now, they didn't care. They were born fighters, glorying in the opportunity to pit themselves against someone else whose skill was equal to their own.

Storm and Colossus, watching from above, exchanged a concerned look, wondering if perhaps they shouldn't put a stop to the bout before someone was seriously hurt, but Logan stepped in and told them to leave it be. The two women involved were well aware of their own limitations and wouldn't do one another any serious injury. 

Neal Shaara looked on as Shadowcat executed a perfect back flip, landed and immediately spun around, landing a punch with such force that it sent Psylocke flying backwards, skidding across the floor, and he thanked his lucky stars to have escaped their recent encounter with nothing more than a bruised knee.

Rogue leaned forward against the computer console, a wide smile plastered on her face, keeping a close eye on the escalating imbroglio and wishing she were down there with them, in the middle of the action. She loved nothing better than a good brawl and this one looked like one of the best. 

Bishop was enthralled with the action, admiring the skill, tenacity, and sheer toughness of his two team mates, gaining a new respect for both women as fighters and X-Men, while Iceman simply enjoyed the view of two beautiful women in skimpy clothing bending and flexing in all manner of interesting ways.

As for Sage, she was, as usual, observing every single detail, down to the smallest movement, storing and cataloging the information for further analysis at a later date. Not only could she use her mutant ability to anticipate another fighters likely moves, but she could also process what she observed and incorporate it into her own repitoir for later use. This experience was providing her with quite a bit of very useful material.

Standing near Wolverine, Nightcrawler watched the young woman he'd known since she was thirteen years old and pondered on how far she had come since that time. It was a difficult concept for him to accept at times, but right now, there was no denying that the young girl he remembered had grown into an exceptional woman and a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Now, if they could only get to the bottom of her strange behavior of late. 

After Psylocke delivered one particularly vicious kick to Shadowcat's midsection, Henry McCoy began considering the wisdom of calling down to the medlab and telling Cecilia to get ready for incoming injuries, sure that there would probably be a least a few minor ones before they were done. Those two women were giving it all they had and beating one another to a pulp in the process.

As it turned out, his instincts were absolutely correct, but not in the way he might have expected.

**********************************************************************************************************************

The two women went at each other for quite some time, neither really able to gain the advantage for long enough to end the match, the ferocity of their assaults gradually escalating until each was taking brutal hits. Though neither was in danger of losing control, both were putting everything they had into what they were doing, lost in the adrenaline rush and the call of battle. They were warriors born and it showed.

It never occurred to the observers that something was terribly wrong until it was far too late to stop it. 

From their vantage point high above, their friends couldn't see Kitty's eyes turn from dark, golden brown to a bright, flickering, flame red, or the way the Crimson Dawn tattoo over Betsy's left eye began to pulse, glowing a deep, dark, blood red. 

The first clue any of them had that things were not as they should be, was when both women suddenly stopped, standing in the middle of the floor, gasping for air, as they each seemed to take the others measure. 

This went on for several minutes, and the gathered assemblage in the control room began speculating that they were about to either end the match and call it a draw, or that they were taking a break to catch their breath before continuing. 

So it came as quite a surprise to everyone when the two women, acting in unison as though they had rehearsed it beforehand, reached behind them, pulling their katanas from their scabbards and, again bowing formally, took up a fighting stance.

A blade in each hand, the two women ran at each other, emitting bloodcurdling war cries to the clash of blades so violent it set up a shower of sparks around them. 

Every single person in the control room was watching the battle with rapt attention, eyes glued to the flashing, swinging blades as they struck and skimmed off one another, the two women wielding them simply blurs of motion as they moved more quickly than the eye could follow. But it wasn't until first blood was drawn that the trance wore off and the spectators realized that the two women below them had, at some point in the fight, completely lost their minds. 

**********************************************************************************************************************

Kitty was on one knee, arms raised high, blades crossed in an X shape as she blocked one of Betsy's katana's from striking her in the head. With a flick of her wrists, she repelled the blade away from her and spun, shooting upright as she turned, managing to evade the violet eyed ninja's defenses and slice her upper arm, drawing blood from a, thankfully, shallow wound.

Psylocke retaliated with an upward slice of the blade in her right hand, which Kitty successfully dodged. But she wasn't quite as lucky with the downward arc of the blade in Betsy's left hand and it caught her across the top of her right arm, just above her elbow, the cut somewhat deeper than what she'd inflicted on her sparring partner. 

As the two women backed off slightly to regroup for another go, all hell broke loose overhead.

"What the hell!" Logan's shouted exclamation was echoed by several others in the room, Storm, Peter, Neal and Rogue among them. "Somebody get down there **now**! Clear a path!" 

The Canadian mutant popped his metal claws automatically with a soft "snickt", and those X-Men in his immediate vicinity began looking frantically for somewhere else to be, though, in their present close confines, their options were somewhat limited.

"Logan, something is terribly wrong. We must separate them before someone is seriously injured."

"No shit, 'Ro. Tell me somethin' I don't know." he turned to Kurt, who was standing in front of him, the feral mutant's mind working overtime. "Elf, get Rogue down there, let her see if she stop 'em." Logan was literally growling in agitation. All he was interested in at the moment was getting down there, getting his Kit out of danger and getting her to the medlab.

Rogue turned toward Kurt; who was between her and Logan, reaching for his hand. "Ah'm on it." 

"I am going as well." Peter's expression said he would brook no refusal and Rogue didn't have time to argue anyway.

"Hold on, mein Freunden." Kurt grabbed the hand of each team mate then"bamfed" away in a cloud of smoke and sulfur as Logan called out to the rest of the assembled team while pushing his way to the door.

"McCoy, call down to the medlab. Tell Cecelia she's got incomin'. Everybody else, get down there. I don't know what th' flamin' hell's happenin', but we gotta be ready for anything."

But he needn't have wasted his breath. The other X-Men were already on the move, squeezing their way out of the cramped, tightly packed room in a rush to help their friends and teammates.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Down in the Danger Room, the conflict had escalated once again, both women fighting with a deadly ferocity, the clang of swords and the occasional grunt as one or another of the fighters took a hit the only sounds reverberating through the large room. 

Nightcrawler, Rogue, and Colossus materialized a few feet away, but neither Shadowcat nor Psylocke paid them any mind. Indeed, they didn't even seem aware of their presence. 

Instinctively changing into his organic metal form, Colossus started forward, calling out to the two women. "Katya! Elisabeth! Stop!"

The women paid him no heed what so ever, and Rogue restrained him before he could plunge into the fray.

"Whoa, boy. You go chargin' in there, those gals'll make mince meet outta you, metal hide or not."

"Mein Gott, Colossus, Rogue, look at their faces, their eyes."

At Kurt's exclamation, the other two X-Men took a good look at their team mates, noticing the red glow of the Crimson Dawn tattoo on Psylocke's face, the way Shadowcat's eyes seemed to leap with flame, and their hearts dropped into their stomachs.

Their faces were completely blank, eyes almost glazed over, as if they were fighting on some kind of automatic pilot. Each woman sported wounds of varying severity all over their bodies from which blood flowed freely, but they seemed oblivious to this as well. 

All three observers felt a cold chill run down their spines as they watched the two young women, apparently on destroying one another, their faces devoid of expression or emotion. It was as if the souls that should have inhabited the bodies were gone, leaving only the empty shells.

Rogue broke through the horrified shock that had rendered her momentarily motionless, throwing herself bodily between the two combatants at the first opportunity and bracing herself for the blows she knew were coming. But they never did.

Instead, the two ninja's stopped dead in their tracks, seeming confused by this unanticipated event. They stood for a moment, unmoving, before their eyes rolled back in their heads and they collapsed to the floor without a sound.

**********************************************************************************************************************

**A/N: This thing is taking on a life of it's own at this point and I apparently have no control over what these guys are doing, so it's anybody's guess how this is all gonna end up. Obviously, this is slightly AU, taking place sometime shortly after X-Men 109. If you read, please review. All reviews are welcome. **


	7. Fade to Black

**Disclaimer: **They're not mine, but after what I'm about to do to them, Marvel may not want them back. Making no money.

**Warning: **There will be some very disturbing imagery in this chapter and, though not graphic, there is also implied rape and sexual abuse, and character death (Though the character is from an alternate universe). If this offends you, please skip it.

**Many thanks to my reviewers:**

Caliente: As always, you are the best! I feel really sorry for Kurt, too. If they were gonna take Amanda away, they could have at least left him Cerise. I promise, we'll get to Amanda soon. I may even send her to Westchester, and Kurt, but after that, it's up to him what he does with her. ;) Glad you liked the sparring matches. And, yes, I think the thing between Peter and Rogue in the X-Men was a little strange and disturbing myself. I'm choosing to ignore **anything** between them other than friendship. Now, on to more about Kitty and Betsy, but it may not clear up a whole lot, yet. Things will get worse before they get better.

T.A. pixiestix: Thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying the ride so far. The voices in my head that seem to have taken over the writing of this story tell me that they have some very interesting things in store for our favorite X-Men. And I'm trying to get enough background into this that you won't necessarily have to know a whole lot about the comics to understand the story.

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**Chapter 7 – Fade to Black**

The medlab was in complete and total chaos. 

Cecelia Reyes and Hank McCoy worked quickly and diligently, like the pros that they were, hooking their two patients up to various monitors, assessing their condition, trying to determine the most pressing concerns in order to address and treat them properly.

These efforts were unintentionally hampered by the presence of the entire roster of X-Men currently in residence. 

The two doctors tried to remove the well-meaning and concerned observers several times, only partially succeeding. They had managed to eject most of the team, but Peter, Logan, and Neal had absolutely refused to leave, Wolverine becoming particularly hostile at the suggestion. In the interest of their patients welfare and their own, Hank and Cecelia had finally given up and let them stay. Now, if they could only get them out of the way so they could do their job.

Finally, Dr. Reyes, who was not particularly known for her wealth of patience at the best of times, had enough and turned on the three observers.

"Look, if you want us to be able to help Betsy and Kitty you are going to have to **GET OUT OF OUR WAY! NOW!**" 

She shoved at the nearest body, which happened to be Neal, and sent him stumbling backward several paces. The ferocious outburst had the desired effect, at least for the moment, as all three finally moved off to the side, giving the two doctors room to work properly.

Like the well honed team they were, the two physicians worked in efficient silence, Hank monitoring the patients vitals for clues to their continued state of unconsciousness while Cecelia checked their wounds, stitching up any that needed it, then cleaning, medicating and bandaging the rest. 

When she was finished, she turned to Hank with a questioning expression.

"Ok, Hank, enlighten me. I can't find any indication of head injuries, broken bones, or major trauma. Why are they still out?"

The large, blue furred man shook his head in obvious confusion as he looked from one patient to the other.

"Frankly, Cecelia, I haven't the foggiest notion. Blood pressure, heart rate, temperature, respiration...they're all well within normal parameters. Pupils on both are equal and reactive. I've taken some blood samples and they're analyzing now, but, frankly, I haven't found one single reason why either young woman is still unconscious."

"Maybe it had something to do with trying to pummel one another to death." she grumbled under her breath as she studied her two prone charges. What had they been thinking?

"Ok." she said with a sigh and a tired shake of her head. This seemed about par for the course for this group. Why couldn't it ever be something simple and normal, like a concussion or a nice epileptic seizure? Or asthma? But no. It would undoubtedly prove to be something convoluted and confusing, if not downright otherworldly, that could only happen to these people. They attracted the strange and unbelievable like giant weirdness magnets. "I guess our next step is X-rays and a CAT scan, maybe an encephalogram..."

As Hank nodded his agreement and began setting up for further tests, she turned to the other three mutants in the room. 

"Were any of you three present when they lost consciousness?"

Peter stepped forward, face pale and creased with worry, looking as if he might join his teammates in la-la land at any minute.

"I was there."

"Ok, Peter," she came over to stand in front of the large Russian, studying his face intently. "tell me everything that happened, starting from the first moment you noticed that something was wrong."

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"And you say that Kitty's eyes were **glowing**?" asked the flabbergasted Dr. Reyes, putting one hand over her face. It was going to be a very long night. 

The dark haired young man nodded, glancing worriedly in the direction of the exam table where Katherine Pryde's prone form lay, still as death.

"It's ok, Peter." Cecelia said somewhat more gently as she followed the direction of his gaze, unable to sustain her irritation with the situation in light of the young man's obvious worry about his teammate and friend. "I'm sure she and Betsy will be just fine. Now, what about Betsy?" **_Oh, good grief. I can't believe I'm actually about to ask this question, _**Dr. Reyes thought. "Were her eyes glowing as well?"

"No. The tattoo over her left eye, the mark of the Crimson Dawn, was, however. They both seemed to be completely unaware of their actions, as if they were in a trance."

Of course. She should have known. Glowing eyes and glowing mystical tattoos. Wonderful.

"I thought Betsy gave up, or got rid of, or did **something** about all that Crimson Dawn stuff a while back."

"Da. So did we all."

Turning back to Hank, Dr. Reyes had the nearly overwhelming urge to fling her hands up in defeat. How, exactly, did one fight the possession of two mutant ninja's by a mystical dimension of power? This was never covered in any of her advanced medical biology classes.

_**These people don't need a doctor. They need an exorcist.**_

"What do you think, Henry? Could this Crimson Whatever be responsible for their present state?" 

"Possibly." The large man scratched his chin thoughtfully with one clawed paw. "Though I have never known it to take possession of an unconnected bystander before. Perhaps the results of these additional tests will shed further light onto the problem. As of this moment, their vital signs are stable and, other than remaining unconscious, they appear otherwise normal and healthy."

"Well, that's something, I suppose." Picking up a clipboard, Dr. Reyes went to each woman in turn, making notations on their charts, looking for even the smallest discrepancy or common thread that might give them an idea of what they needed to do for these two. After a moment, she called back to the other three people still standing to one side of the room. "Logan, Neal, Peter, you might as well go have a seat with everyone else, tell them what's going on. If anything changes, we'll let you know."

When no one moved, Cecelia stopped what she was doing to give them a sympathetic look.

"Look, guys, there's nothing you can do in here right now. I know you're all worried about Betsy and Kitty, but we can do our jobs better if we don't have to work around the three of you. I promise, if they wake up, or if there's even the slightest change in their condition, I'll let you know immediately. OK?"

After a moments hesitation, Logan nodded. "You be **sure** you do that, Doc."

Heading for the door, the feral Canadian and motioned for the two younger men to do the same. They reluctantly complied, Peter stealing one last glance at Kitty before following Neal and Logan out into the hall, where the rest of the team waited.

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All the world was darkness. Not simply due to the absence of light, but also the absence of hope, of any chance that she would have anything left to look forward to, in whatever was left of her life, but suffering and the peace of death.

She was all alone now. There was no one to come for her, no one left to rescue her. 

Storm had promised to come back for her, promised not to leave her. They would all go home together. That's what she'd said. But it hadn't worked out that way at all.

Kitty had seen them, Belasco and the big, purple demon, S'ym, dragging Kurt and Logan back into the Demon Lord's throne room. 

He'd left her trapped , frozen in the eldrich crystal, able to see, able to hear, to think, but unable to move or to utter the smallest sound. Kitty was pretty sure that this was hell.

So, she'd heard what Belasco offered them, to make them his apprentices, to let them serve him. 

Logan had refused, of course, loudly and violently. He'd fought with all his might against his captors, right up until he'd drawn his last breath as Belasco methodically stripped the flesh from his bones, leaving his adamantium laced skeleton where it had fallen to one side of the chamber.

After witnessing that horror, Kurt had seemed to fold in on himself, giving up, giving in. She'd watched helplessly, day by day, as Belasco corrupted him, until he was only a demon wearing the the face of the man that had once been her friend.

Now, that demon delighted in tormenting her, coming to her each day, whispering to her of the horrors that awaited her at Belasco's hands, telling her of the deaths of Illyana, Ororo...and Peter.

Her family, her world, everything she had been and could ever be, gone like so much smoke in a windstorm. And the magic of the crystal, where she was trapped and displayed, like a moth in amber, wouldn't even allow her to cry.

Belasco had done horrible things to her, beaten her, tortured her, imprisoned her like some kind of trophy and put her on display. But the worst thing, the very worst, was what he'd done to her last.

He'd done far worse than turn her into a demon. Belasco had turned her into an animal, using some vile, evil spell to take away her humanity and make her into something resembling her namesake. The Kitty had become a Cat.

But still she refused to give in. Despite the beatings, the threats, the abuse, and even the loss of her self, Kitty refused to give in to him. She wold **not** become what he was as long as she was able to draw breath. 

He wanted her for his apprentice, had offered her an amulet of power, had offered to teach her the dark arts, but Peter's face appeared in front of her every time she weakened, even the tiniest bit, and Kitty knew she would die a thousand deaths before she went willingly into damnation. 

Belasco had been responsible for the death of everything she held dear in her life. Storm, her surrogate mother, Logan, her surrogate father, Kurt, her best friend who was worse than dead, Illyana, a child she loved as if she were her own sister, and Peter, who had held her heart and soul in his hands. After such atrocities, how could the demon believe she would ever join him.

So she stayed here, imprisoned in her crystal prison, enduring one beating after another, endless torture at the hands of Belasco, S'ym, and the thing that had once been Kurt Wagner, and waiting for death to finally come for her and take her into the arms of those who had gone before. 

Kitty was fifteen years old and knew she would never see another birthday.

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"Henry, come take a look at this." 

Cecelia Reyes was watching the display from the machine that monitored her patients brain activity, her brows knit together in a scowl as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. This couldn't be right.

Hank McCoy left his microscope, coming to stand beside the other doctor as he took a look at the readouts she indicated. After studying it for several moments, he turned to his colleague, his expression just as puzzled as her own.

"This is impossible. Or, at least, it should be. Hold on a moment." 

Tearing off the paper printout from Kitty's machine, he compared it to the readout from the one monitoring Betsy, shaking his head in amazement. Her tore the printout off of that machine as well and took them back over to Cecelia, so that she could see them side by side as well.

"What do you make of this?" 

Taking both readouts in her hand, Dr. Reyes studied them carefully, matching the lines of the graph, comparing them to one another. Turning to Hank, she waved the papers at him, lips pursed thoughtfully. 

"Do we have any previous readings from Kitty or Betsy, before this happened? I've got a suspicion, but I need something to compare these to."

"I believe we do. That information should be stored in their patient records on the computer."

The two doctors made their way to a nearby console, Hank taking a seat in the chair as he began typing on the keyboard. In a few moments, the screen displayed readouts from both Betsy and Kitty's files.

"Can you print those out?"

"Absolutely." Hank replied, hitting another button on the keyboard, and the nearby printer immediately started spitting out papers. 

Cecelia grabbed the sheets as they came shooting out , took them over to an empty space along one counter and began laying it all out side by side. Her eyes narrowed as she looked from the computer printouts to the ones she had recently pulled out of the two monitors.

"Hank, I think I've got something." She waited until the large man had joined her at the counter, then pointed to various similar looking lines on two different pages of readouts from Betsy. "Ok, you see these two here? See how similar they are?" She then pointed to the same areas on Kitty's readouts. "And these are the same." Shuffling some papers around, she laid the two most recent printouts side by side, their correlating earlier versions on each side of those. "Now, look at this line here. They're the same as what's on the previous readouts. That's each woman's normal brainwave pattern. But compare the two most recent only with one another and tell me what you see."

Taking a few minutes, Henry McCoy studied the four pieces of paper, paying particular attention to the most recent two sitting side by side. Suddenly, his eyes went wide in surprise as he looked up at his partner in the medical arts.

"These lines are the same," he pointed to two separate areas on each patients print out. "in both Betsy and Kitty, almost exactly, while the rest of the graph matches each woman's previous independent reading. Amazing."

Cecelia nodded solemnly. "Yes, it is. Somehow, while still retaining the majority of their own brain wave patterns, Katherine and Elisabeth have also correlated part of their brain activity to one another, effectively connecting them together, mind to mind." The lovely, mutant doctor sighed heavily, clenching her fists in frustration. "But is this information going to tell us why they've been unconscious for the last forty eight hours?"

"I honestly can't say," Dr. McCoy responded. "but it does tell us that, whatever it is keeping one unconscious is doing the same for the other as well. If Betsy's telepathy were still active, I'd be inclined to blame that, but I don't see how that's possible in this instance. And Katherine, to my knowledge, has never displayed any sort of telepathic or telekinetic ability."

"Then, what do we know about this Crimson Dawn thing?" Cecelia's mind was working overtime, grasping at any possible connection between the two women. "Could it be somehow responsible?"

"I'm afraid our knowledge of that mystical realm, and it's attendant gifts and powers, is extremely limited as well. Though I certainly have never known of this to happen before, even when Betsy's Crimson Dawn enhanced abilities were active, I suppose anything is possible. It definitely bears checking into."

Scrubbing her palm across her face roughly, Cecelia headed back to the bank of monitors attached to both patients. 

"Well, at least it's more than we did have. I just don't understand this at all. Their vitals are normal, other than a few cuts and bruises, there aren't any significant injuries, CAT scans, blood tests, toxicity levels, bodily functions, everything is perfectly normal for women of their age, body types and activity. They should **not** be unconscious. There is absolutely no reason for it." 

Resisting the urge to grab one of their patients and shake her until her teeth rattled, her head fell off, or she finally woke up and told them what the hell was going on, Dr. Reyes returned to her search for her needle in the proverbial haystack.

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How long she stayed suspended there this time, Kitty didn't know. There was no way to mark the passing of time. No sunrise, no sunset, just an endless sameness.

Earlier, Belasco had gone, but now she could see he was returning as he emerged from one of the far passages, the monster that had once been Kurt Wagner following obediently behind the Demon Lord. Only a few moments after their arrival, S'ym appeared as well and Kitty's heart sank. There was only one reason Belasco would summon them both at once.

With meticulous precision, the magician drew a large pentagram within a circle directly in front of his throne on the floor of the large chamber. Kitty couldn't help a shudder of revulsion as she wondered what obscene spell he would cast this time. 

He finished his work, standing back and looking over his handiwork, making sure all was as it should be. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he released Kitty from confinement, directly into the waiting arms of S'ym and Nightcrawler. Their touch repulsed her, but Belasco kept her too weak and powerless, with his spells and torture, for her to put up much of a fight. 

The two monsters half carried, half dragged her to where Belasco stood, dumping her on the floor at his feet. Bending down, the Demon Lord cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to him as he smiled, but the expression held no humor or warmth, only hate and malice.

"I give you one final chance, child. Join me, become my apprentice, fully and of your own free will. I can show you delights beyond imagining, power beyond comprehension. Together, we could be gods."

Though her body was weak, her spirit was not broken and Kitty's eyes blazed up at him, their slit pupils narrowed in hate.

"I would rather die."

Belasco seemed to consider her words, his glowing red eyes never leaving her own, then abruptly cast her away from him.

"So be it. S'ym, Nightcrawler, strip her, bind her. If she will not give herself willingly, then I shall send her screaming into the abyss."

What happened next, was more horrible than Kitty would ever have believed possible. 

She had thought the beatings, the tortures, the living death of imprisonment in the crystal had been as bad as it could possibly get, that nothing could be any worse than what she had already endured.

Compared to what was to come, it was the gentlest of existence.

At their masters order, the demons stripped what little clothing she wore from her body, pawing and mauling her in the process, delighting in her frightened whimpers, the hot tears that fell like rain from her eyes as she began to contemplate the fate that awaited her.

Having had their fun with her for the moment, S'ym and Nightcrawler bound her inside the pentagram, arms, legs, and head tied to the five points. When they were done, Belasco spoke an ancient spell and red black fire rose up around her, following the lines of the casting circle and pentagram within. 

Kitty expected it to burn, but instead, it was cold. As cold as the grave.

Even at fifteen, she was not ignorant of what was about to happen to her and her entire body trembled in a terror so deep that it seemed to want to suck her down. Tightly bound as she was, there was no escape for her and she began to pray for death.

Saying a few more words, Belasco ended the spell, turning to his waiting servants with a wave of his hand and a nod.

"Nightcrawler, you may begin."

Belasco turned his back to the pentagram's cardinal point, where her head was bound and began the chant as the thing that had been Kurt Wagner stepped into the circle and leered down at her, making her blood run cold.

Without a word, the man that had once been her best friend shed the few garments he wore and bent down to her, hissing between fanged teeth, yellow eyes glowing with the fever of madness.

"Don't worry, Leiblein. It will only hurt the first dozen times or so."

Even as he violated her horribly, Kitty refused to cry out, bearing the pain and humiliation, as her body was mauled and torn, in absolute silence, . But she had to close her eyes. It was beyond her bearing to look at a face she had once loved as her innocence was ruthlessly, brutally ripped from her, destroyed beyond all redemption. Death would have been a blessing.

It seemed to go on forever, as S'ym and Nightcrawler took turns with her, leaving her broken, bleeding, torn, her only wish and ending to the nightmare that her life had become. And, all the while, Belasco chanted and gestured and the red black fire burned.

Finally, the Demon Lord called enough, and the her tormentors left her, lying in her own blood, as their master worked toward the completion of his spell. Kitty didn't even know what the spell was supposed to do. In truth, she didn't care. She hoped it would kill her.

It was then that she opened her eyes and beheld a truly wondrous sight.

Floating in the air just above her poor, misused body, was a pure, white light. And within the light, a sword. It called to her and she tried to reach for it, but she was bound too tightly to move. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and, somehow, she knew it was supposed to be hers. It was a part of her.

And Belasco was going to steal it, take from her yet another part of her being, her soul.

Kitty began to struggle violently against her bonds, ignoring the protests of her body as the sword within the light became more substantial, more real. She couldn't let him get it. It wasn't meant for him and he would corrupt it, use it to do terrible, unspeakable things.

When the sword was almost fully materialized, Belasco turned, reaching one vile, clawed hand out to touch it and Kitty screamed. She put everything she had left within her into that one act and it startled the Demon Lord enough that he took an involuntary step backwards, jerking his hand away in surprise.

He would never get another chance at the sword.

A crash of thunder shook the entire castle, and a bolt of lightning slammed into the ground inches from where Belasco stood.

**"MONSTER!" **Carried by a swift wind, Storm flew from one of the right hand passages, her face twisted into a mask of horror and fury at the sight that met her eyes. "**VILE SPAWN OF HELL!"**

Belasco actually blanched, calling to S'ym and Nightcrawler to protect him, jumping to the side just as another lightning bolt, like the hand of God, slammed into the spot where he'd been standing only an instant before, sending up a shower of dust and stone as it pulverized the floor of the chamber.

The white light, along with the sword it had contained, faded and Kitty blinked to clear her eyes, afraid what she was seeing was only another illusion, but Ororo was still there, lightening coruscating around her in a halo of light and power and rage. With only a thought, she sent bolts in the direction of S'ym and Kurt, knocking them back and away from Kitty. 

And that's when Kitty saw him, but she told herself this **had** to be an illusion. He was dead, killed by Belasco's demons. Kurt had told her so. 

But Kurt wasn't her friend anymore, he was a demon, corrupted by this horrible place and it's even more horrible master. And Kitty realized he had lied to her.

Then, he was bending over her, releasing her from her bonds, his deep blue eyes filled with tears, his handsome face filled with shock and grief at the realization of what had been done to her, and Kitty couldn't hold it in any longer. As soon as her arms were free, she wrapped them around him, sobbing out her pain and sorrow onto his broad shoulders.

Storm was providing cover for them, keeping Belasco and the demons at bay with wind and lightning, as Peter freed her from the last of her restraints and picked her up, cradling her gently in his arms as he quickly made his way toward the passage Storm had emerged from. As soon as they neared the regal white haired mutant, she landed lightly beside them, unfastening her cloak and wrapping it around Kitty's slight, battered form, laying her cool palm against the younger girls cheek as tears poured from her eyes.

"Oh, my Kitten..." The African woman's ice blue eyes were deep wells of sorrow as she looked at the girl she had sworn to protect with her life, and knew she had failed miserably. She turned to Peter, the sorrow once again replaced by a terrible, burning rage. "You know where to take her. I will be right behind you."

"Storm...what will you do?" The young Russian asked the question almost hesitantly, awed by the raw power emanating from this woman. He had never seen her so nearly out of control before.

"If I can, I will kill him. And his servants as well. For what they have done this day, they deserve every horror I can visit upon them."

Peter seemed to consider this for a moment, then his face hardened and he nodded. "Good."

They parted without another word as Storm went in pursuit of Belasco, S'ym and Kurt, and Peter carried Kitty down the long corridor and away from the horror she had endured.

Closing her eyes, Kitty allowed herself to finally relax, but the tears didn't stop. She wondered if they ever would. But she was safe now, with Peter, and Storm would be with them soon as well. It was over. They would find a way home and leave this cursed place.

They had gone some distance before Kitty opened her eyes again and spoke for the first time.

"Peter...?" He stopped around a bend in the corridor and looked down at her, but she couldn't meet his gaze. She'd failed him, and Ororo as well, by being weak, by letting Belasco take her, use her. And she was ashamed of what had happened to her because she hadn't been strong enough, smart enough to escape, or to not be caught in the first place. "I'm sorry..." 

His arms tightened around her and he bowed his head, burying his face in her long hair, as he fought for his composure. He had failed her utterly, allowed her to fall into the hands of a monster who had done things to her that were beyond his worst nightmare, yet she was apologizing to him. For what, he had no idea.

"Why, Katya?" he managed to choke out. "It is I who should be sorry, though I can never hope for your forgiveness."

Surprised, she turned her face toward him, bringing them almost nose to nose. "But, Peter, I let him catch me. And, if I'd been watching Illyana more closely in the first place, we wouldn't even be here. It's all my fault." A thought suddenly struck her and her eyes went wide, almost panic stricken. "Oh, God...Peter...Illyana, what happened to her? Is she..."

But Peter shook his head. "No. She is not here. We managed to get her home, or at least what Storm believes was home. Illyana is safe."

Kitty relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I couldn't live with myself if something had happened to her."

It was almost more than Peter could bear, that she would be so concerned with his sister's safety after all she had been through herself. Again, he cursed himself for not sending Illyana back home to Russia, instead of trying to keep her in America with him. If he only had, none of this would have happened.

"Kayta, none of this is your fault. Your are not to blame for anything that has happened. I promised you that I would never let anything happen to you and I could not have failed more miserably."

Reaching up, she laid her palm against his tear stained cheeks, finally gathering up the courage to look him in the eyes. What she saw there wasn't the disgust and disappointment she'd half expected, but a deep, abiding sorrow, as well as a strong, pure love the likes of which she had never known.

"It's not your fault either, Peter." She sighed, realizing that they were all blaming themselves, but none of them were at fault. "All the blame belongs to Belasco and I hope he fries in hell."

Before either of them could speak again, Storm caught up to them, weaving in the air current that carried her aloft, nearly exhausted from her efforts. She landed beside them and they could feel the sense of urgency emanating from her. 

"We must go. Quickly. Belasco and his minions managed to evade me and I am afraid they are hunting us, even as we speak."

Almost as if her words had conjured them, the Demon Lord and his demons appeared in the flash of light from a teleportation circle, only a little ways down the corridor from where they stood.

"Storm!" Peter thrust Kitty into the arms of her surrogate mother. "Take her and go. I will hold them off for as long as I can."

"Peter, no!" Kitty struggled in Ororo's hold, but she was too weak to break free.

"No, little brother. We will fight together."

But Peter shook his head vehemently. "No. You are exhausted and Katya requires attention. I will not allow Belasco to touch her again while I live."

Knowing he was right, Storm turned with Kitty in her arms, preparing to take flight once again, but Kitty's hand flew out and snagged Peter's arm, her eyes pleading with him.

"I love you, Peter. Don't leave me to go on alone."

The big Russian turned toward her, his heart breaking. Leaning down, he kissed her tenderly, gazing into her eyes and willing her to know the depth of his love for her. "I love you, Katya. I will do my best."

With that, he gave Storm a gentle push, urging her to flee, as he turned from flesh and blood to solid, organic steel and faced the onrushing enemy.

Taking his cue, Storm generated a wind, lifting them up and propelling them down the long corridor, hopefully to safety.

Craning her neck, Kitty kept her eyes glued to the battle, feeling her heart shatter as she realized the Peter was being overwhelmed by sheer numbers, though he was fighting with a ferocity she had never known he possessed. 

When she saw S'ym coming from behind him, as Peter was occupied with battling a lesser demon, she tried to scream out a warning, but he never heard her. In the next instant, the huge, purple demon had him, picking him up and slamming him against the corridor wall, his feet dangling off the floor.

Despite his own massive size, Colossus was no match for the huge behemoth in sheer, raw power. Kitty knew what was coming an instant before it happened, wanted to look away, knowing it was an image that would haunt her, waking and sleeping, for the rest of her life, however long or short that might be. But, in the end, she couldn't .

When Belasco's demon rammed his huge fist through Peter's chest, caving it in and killing the young man instantly, Kitty felt something in her mind snap. The last thing she heard was the sound of her own hysterical scream echoing off the corridor walls.

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Monitors were screaming out in warning all over the room, but neither Hank nor Ceclia had time to care.

One minute everything was fine, just as it had been for the last week. Other than being in a state of unconsciousness bordering on a coma, their two patients were disgustingly healthy and normal. They still couldn't find a thing to explain their current condition and nothing they had tried seemed to make a difference. Not even the use of Shi'ar technology.

They were at the end of their rope, with no hope in sight. The two doctors had begun to believe that the young women would remain in an permanent, inexplicable, vegetative state. It was extremely disheartening for them, both as friends and teammates of the two women in question.

The next moment, however, everything suddenly and inexplicably went straight to hell at top speed, in a flaming, screaming hand basket. 

Elisabeth Braddock sprang bolt upright in bed, screaming at a pitch and volume that set every hair on Hank's body on end. She was pressing her hands against her ears, eyes screwed tightly shut as blood poured from her nose. And, only a second later, it began flowing from her ears as well.

A few feet away, Katherine Pryde went into sudden, massive, violent convulsions that twisted and contorted her body, lifting her nearly from the bed as her muscles knotted and pulled, her face frozen into a rictus of agony. 

Both women's vital signs spiked through the roof, blood pressure, brain wave activity, heart rate, everything, and the two physicians didn't know which they should worry about more at this point, stroke, heart attack, or brain damage.

They barely even noticed when the rest of the household came barreling through the medlab doors, having heard the cacophony of alarms and human screams emanating from within. Cecelia and Henry were too busy trying to save the lives of two of their friends to know, or care, about spectators or what this horrific scene might look like to non-medical personnel. It didn't look much better to the medically trained.

Hank worked on Psylocke, at first trying to communicate with the woman and, when that proved futile, administering a cocktail of various drugs into her IV in an effort to both calm her and reduce her dangerously elevated blood pressure and heart rate. If something didn't kick in soon, either the young woman's heart or a major blood vessel was going to blow. He could not, would not allow that.

Meanwhile, Cecelia stood over Shadowcat, trying to simultaneously wedge a bite guard between her teeth to keep her from biting her tongue off, and administer medications through her IV to combat not only her elevated blood pressure and heart rate, but to stop the ongoing gran mal seizure as well. If they didn't get it stopped soon, there would be significant danger of brain damage.

"Damn it, Hank!" Cecelia called out to her colleague, rushing to the drug cabinet for yet another medication. "Nothing's working. I can't give her much more without risking overdosing her and killing her outright. What the hell happened?!"

"I don't know, but I'm not having any better luck with Betsy. Her blood pressure is off the scale. If I don't get it down, and quickly, she's going to have a massive stroke."

Over to one side, the X-Men stood huddled together, frozen in shock and horror, unable to believe what they were seeing and hearing. Rogue and Ororo were in tears as they watched the teams two physicians move at frenzied, lightning speed, desperately trying to save their friends. 

Rogue was clinging tightly to Peter's hand, clamping down on his fingers almost hard enough to break them in her agitation, but the big, Russian man never even noticed. His eyes were glued to the table where Kitty lay, still convulsing violently as Dr. Reyes cursed, and yelled, and pushed herself to the breaking point trying to stop the chain of events that seemed to be literally tearing the young woman apart from the inside out. 

All Peter could think, the only thing running through his mind, over and over again, was that he couldn't lose her. Not like this. Not when the last words they'd really spoken to one another had been in anger. 

_**Dear God, please, not like this.**_

Neal Shaara was in a similar state. The scene before him seemed surreal. For a week, he'd spent every spare moment at Betsy's bedside, offering up prayers to every deity he knew for her to wake up, say something, come back to him. What he was seeing now was like a twisted, nightmarish answer to those prayers. 

Logan and Kurt stood, one on each side of Ororo, who had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she wept. Each man looked on in helpless horror as the two women they considered family continued to fight for their very lives only a few feet away. And this was one fight they couldn't join in on. Putting one arm around Ororo, Logan dropped his head and did something he'd done no more than a handful of times in his entire life. He prayed. Kurt Wagner pulled out his rosary, hit his knees, and did the same.

Bishop, Sage, and Iceman, like their team mates, could only watch helplessly as Hank and Cecelia worked tirelessly over their two patients, never giving up, never willing to even consider any other outcome other than the one they wanted. How, they wondered, could something like this happen so quickly, so unexpectedly, to two perfectly healthy women. The X-Men fought, and survived, unwinnable battles nearly every day, against unbeatable odds, and yet managed to come out the other side victorious. It was almost blasphemous that two such warriors could be struck down in this manner.

As abruptly as she had begun, Betsy's screaming came to a halt, her vital signs almost instantly returning to normal as she let her hands fall from her ears and dropped bonelessly back onto the bed. She was obviously weak, blood still trickling from her nose and ears, but just as obviously conscious and alert as she blinked up at Hank with a stunned, confused expression on her face.

The huge, blue, furry man had time to allow himself a small smile of relief, before Cecelia was screaming for him from beside the other bed.

Just as suddenly, Kitty's convulsions stopped, but her vital signs did not stabilize, as Betsy's had. Instead, they dropped through the floor, the monitors she was hooked to emitting the bone chilling, monotone beep that signaled the patients bodily functions had ceased.

"Flatline!" Cecelia screamed in Hank's direction. "Henry, get the paddles! Now! HURRY! I"M LOSING HER!"

**********************************************************************************************************************

This time, the darkness was more literal than figurative, though, strangely enough, Kitty could see perfectly well. There just wasn't anything there. As far as the eye could see, there was only a prevailing darkness.

Then, in the perpetual night, there was a flicker of light, and, like a movie or a sequence of pictures in a book, images flashed before her eyes.

It was her, but not her. Just as the girl who'd watched as Peter sacrificed his life for her had been Kitty. But not Kitty. At least, not the Kitty that she was now. 

Apparently, this was the rest of that Kitty's life. Only, this time, she wasn't experiencing it firsthand, but as a series of images and sounds. Thank God. She was still trembling like a leaf from her last experience. 

She could still feel the demons' vile hands on her, feel the pain and agony they purposely inflicted as they violated her. It has been more horrible than anything thing she could have possibly imagined. Her stomach roiled in protest at the memories.

Kitty watched attentively as Storm brought the distraught girl to an oasis, put her in a soft bed, tended her wounds until her body had healed. But her soul was still a raw, open wound, and the child ran away, into the desert. Hoping to die. Wanting to escape her pain and rejoin Peter.

But she hadn't died. She'd been far too strong. That Kitty, or Cat, as she called herself now, had lived. She'd learned to fight, and win, and survive, even as she'd become hard, and bitter, and haunted. Each night, she dreamed of the boy she'd loved, the life she'd once lived, and gloried in, of all she'd left behind and would never have again.

She'd grown up there, in that harsh, unforgiving land and she'd vowed that, someday, Belasco would pay for what he'd taken from her.

Eventually, Cat had once again sought out the only friend she had left, Ororo, who had grown old, losing her elemental control over the weather, even as she gained the powers of the dark arts. They had renewed their friendship, had found a kind of tenuous peace in one another's company.

Then, one day, **they** had come. As soon as she saw them, Kitty knew she was looking at herself, her real self, and her team, the day that Belasco had pulled Illyana and, by extension, all of them into Limbo. 

Cat had watched from the shadows as events for these X-Men unfolded much differently. She had seen herself, still young, still innocent, still full of life, as that Kitty encountered what remained of Cat's life. And she'd seen Peter, exactly the way she remembered him to be, and the small part of her heart that was left to her shattered and bled. 

She'd run away then, back to the desert to lick her wounds, to wait for the interlopers, the reminders of what a ruin she'd become, to go back where they'd come from. 

And they had. This team of X-Men had found their way home. It was their Illyana who was left behind. 

At first, Cat had wanted to kill the child, blaming her for everything that had befallen her and her friends in this hellish dimension, but Storm had refused, wanting instead to teach the child the ways of Magik.

But Cat knew that would only be playing into Belasco's hands, so she took the child herself, taught her to fight, made her hard, tough. Made her into the image of herself. And she had also loved her, in the same way that she had loved the little girl that was **her** Illyana, Peter's Illyana.

So, she had tried to save her, had taken her to the one place where there was a chance of sending her home. Using her ability to phase, she had taken the child **between **and Kitty heard her other self speak some of the last human words she would ever utter.

"I could never do it on may own." she told Illyana, holding tightly to the child's hand as they moved through the swirling light that was the wall between dimensions. "I was too afraid of what I'd find...the world **I** left, whose X-Men are dead and damned in Limbo...or, worse, your world, an alternate earth where they're alive and unchanged. Where I'd have to face my younger, still innocent self. And...Peter...whom I loved more than my life." Cat stopped talking then and, when she finally continued, her voice was very small, and very lost, like the child she had once been. "And who gave his life to save me."

Kitty felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, but made no move to wipe them away. She thought she knew what was coming next. If she were right, there would only be more tears to mix with these.

In the end, they did not escape, were instead captured by Belasco, who stripped away the rest of Cat's free will and humanity, making her his servant in Nightcrawler's stead. He'd then taken Illyana and taught her the black arts, made the three bloodstones in the Amulet from her innocent soul, determined to corrupt her in his own image.

But, before he could complete his task, Storm had come to rescue her. The battle raged, but in the end, Illyana had been forced to kill not only Storm, but Cat as well. 

It was those deaths, however, that had given Illyana the strength and determination she needed to forge the Soulsword, to ultimately defeat Belasco, and return to her own dimension, albeit several years older than when she left.

Of course, Kitty already knew what had happened after that.

As the last images faded, another light took their place, growing brighter and brighter until Kitty could make out the form of the Soulsword at it's center. 

It hung there for a moment, as Kitty pondered everything she had seen, everything she had learned. In due time, it spoke to her.

_Now, do you understand?_

_**No. I don't understand. Are you saying that you are Cat's Soulsword, the one that was made from her as Belasco cast his spell?**_

_No. I was made from no one. I am. _

_**But, I saw Illyana make hers, and I saw the one that was made from Cat. **_

_I cannot be made, was not made. Only called. They, both of them, called me forth. You cannot make that which has always been._

_**I'm sorry. I still don't get it, and I really don't understand why you're torturing me, making me live through horrors that aren't even my own. Don't I have enough pain and suffering in my own life, without borrowing someone else's?**_

_Then you truly do not understand. Perhaps, you never will. But I hope that you do. Much depends upon it. I am not your enemy. We belong together._

_**I won't, I can't, believe that. I saw what you did to Illyana. I've experienced what you will do to me, if I allow it. You're evil. To accept you is to lose my soul.**_

_Good or evil is not within the called, only within the caller. That which is unwilling cannot truly be corrupted._

_**So it's my, or Illyana's, fault you're evil??**_

In lieu of an answer, however, the sword began to fade.

_You must return. I have risked much to show you this and I fear I have kept you too long. Time runs short._

It was the second time the voice had uttered that cryptic phrase, and Kitty wondered just what time was running short for. She gave a mental shrug. It was probably nothing, just another trick to try to get her to accept the sword. 

Only, somehow, she didn't really believe that.

As the light faded and a thick darkness closed in around her, a very strange thing happened. In her minds eye, Kitty saw three familiar objects. A glowing sword, a bird of fire, and a leather book, it's cover decorated with words of Latin, written in a smooth flowing script.

And the voice of the sword returned again, only for a moment, very faint and far away.

_There is Justice. There is Power. There is Knowledge. And the Keeper holds the Key._

Before she could ponder the possible significance of these three things,of the strange, puzzling words, the darkness engulfed her and she knew no more.

**********************************************************************************************************************

A/N: Parts of Cat's dialogue, while she is talking to Illyana, comes from the Magik Limited Series from 1984. 

Please read and review. All review sare very welcome.


	8. Fallen Angels

**Disclaimer: **X-Men still aren't mine. I'm just here to torture them. Making no money from this, obviously. Let the games begin.

Don't try to fit this into continuity. It won't really work. If you need a time frame, I'm going with sometime shortly after X-Men 109. I have changed some details to suit me and, in case you're wondering, I'm ignoring the X-Men: Black Sun mini-series pretty much completely. 

**********************************************************************************************************************

**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 8 – Fallen Angels**

The first thing she was aware of was the metered beep and hiss of machines close by where she lay. The sounds were like white noise, monotonous and soothing, and she was tempted to let them lull her back to sleep. Through sheer force of will, she managed to resist the urge, though she felt as if she could sleep forever.

It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim light, but she soon realized she was in the medlab, apparently hooked to nearly every machine the mansion had access to except Cerebro. She also realized, very quickly, that there wasn't any part of her body that didn't ache.

Being careful not to dislodge any probes or wires, Kitty pushed herself into a semi-sitting position, her head still full of the images from her dream.

What the hell did it all mean? What, exactly, was she supposed to have understood from that horror? And what did it mean at the last, about power, justice, knowledge, a keeper and a key? None of it made sense in the least.

_Call to me. Take me up. Then you will understand._

As the voice whispered seductively into her ear, Kitty wanted to scream, to tear at her hair in frustration. Hadn't dragging her through that nightmare been enough? Was it trying to drive her mad as well? It had forced her to live through being enslaved, tortured, raped, seeing everyone and everything she loved destroyed. What more did it want of her?

_We are meant to be together. We are bound. The answers you seek are before you, if you will but open your eyes._

_**SHUT UP!**_

The mental scream echoed through her mind and, thankfully, the voice of the Soulsword retreated. At least for the moment. Kitty knew it would return, would keep coming back, dragging her back into her nightmares, until she gave in.

Until that time came, though, she would keep fighting.

As she gazed around the room, Kitty initially believed herself to be alone, but closer inspection showed her to be wrong. There was someone in the bed just over from her and, unless they'd acquired another teammate with purple hair while she was out, she'd guess it to be Betsy. 

_**Geez. We must've really done a number on eachother.**_

Surprisingly, neither Hank nor Cecelia seemed to be anywhere around, which Kitty found very odd. Though Dr. Reyes often went home at various times, especially at night, preferring it to life in mutant central, Dr. McCoy frequently had to be bodily removed from the lab and forced to eat or get some sleep in his own bed. 

Even as she pondered the significance of this, the body in the next bed stirred slightly, turning in her direction, and a voice with a soft, upper class, English accent called out a little hoarsely.

"Kitty?"

"Sorry, Betts. Did I wake you?"

Almost before she got the words out, Betsy Braddock was beside her on the bed, hugging her gingerly, trying not to entangle herself in the wires from all the monitors Kitty was currently attached to.

"Oh, thank God. How do you feel? Do you hurt anywhere? Can you see ok? How about your hearing? Do you feel woozy or nauseous?" The questions were babbled out in such rapid succession that Kitty couldn't possibly keep up.

"Whoa, whoa, Betsy, one at a time, please. I just woke up and I have no idea what I'm doing in here. Or what you're doing in here either. Did we manage to damage each other that badly? I can't seem to remember..."

Betsy shook her head, giving Kitty a contrite look. "No, I don't think it had anything to do with our sparring match." She paused, her teeth pulling at her lower lip and Kitty wondered what could have the other woman so agitated. It wasn't like Betsy to loose her cool over anything less than a major disaster. "I don't know quite how to tell you this, and I have no idea how it happened, but I think it had something to do with the Crimson Dawn. Apparently, we stopped fighting hand to hand, switched to swords, and tried to kill one another. We've both got several cuts, but I don't think any of them were too bad. There was also mention of glowing eyes, pulsing tattoos, and I remember some really awful dreams about demons, and swords, and lots of nasty stuff I don't even want to think about."

As Betsy spilled it all out in a rush of words, Kitty's face grew more and more pale and she turned to her friend, horrified. Dear God, this just kept getting worse. And she couldn't remember any of it. It started her wondering what else she might have done recently that she didn't remember.

"Oh, Betts. I don't think it was the Crimson Dawn." she told her friend miserably. "I think it was me."

"You? How could it have been you?" Betsy looked totally confused now, and Kitty couldn't blame her. She couldn't get much more confused herself.

Pursing her lips, Kitty took her friends hand. "Can you just tell me what you know. What have they told you about what happened to us?"

"Kitty, are you sure you feel all right. You don't look at all well." The ninja trained telekinetic studied her with soft, violet eyes shining with concern.

"No, I'm not sure, but I really need to know. Please?" Kitty begged. After studying her curiously for another moment, the other woman nodded.

As Betsy quietly filled her friend in on what she knew of their ordeal, the younger woman's head began to swim sickeningly. By the time she was finished, Kitty felt like she was ready to pass out again. Jesus Christ, they'd been in here for over a week. They'd nearly died. And, worse yet, she - or probably more accurately, the Soulsword - had somehow sucked Betsy into those horrible nightmares with her.

Dropping her head down into her hands with a groan, Kitty concentrated on fighting the blackness hovering just a the edges of her vision, willing herself not to pass out. It was the thing she'd feared most, the Soulsword using her to endanger her friends, her family, and it had done it so effortlessly that she hadn't even had the chance to fight it.

"Oh God." Her head jerked up, eyes running over her friend frantically, checking for any signs of permanent damage or disfigurement. "Are you sure you're ok, Betsy?"

"Yes." Betsy shrugged. "Except for a slight headache, I feel fine now. But I've got to tell you, Kit, you scared everyone nearly out of their skin. I'm surprised Cecelia and Henry managed to get them all out of here today. Ever since I woke up, Ororo, Logan, Kurt, Rogue, and Peter have been practically camped out at your bedside. Not that I blame them. I thought I'd killed you."

Kitty just shook her head. "Like I said, I don't think it was you. I think it was me." She took a deep breath, deciding that, for all she'd put her through, Betsy at least deserved an explanation and, God knew, Kitty needed to tell somebody what was going on before she lost her mind. Taking a deep breath, she looked her friend in the face. "Elisabeth, have you ever heard of the Soulsword?"

**********************************************************************************************************************

The day outside was dark, despite the fact that it was barely past noon, with black, ominous clouds hanging over the mansion, indeed the entire area for a fifty mile radius. A cold, hard rain had been falling, off and on, for nearly a week, a reflection of the general mood within the house which seemed to be at the center of the phenomenon, and of one mutant weather elemental in particular. 

Ever since the episode with Betsy and Kitty, Storm's emotions had been adversely affecting the weather, with no particular end in sight. Unless she consciously manipulated the clouds away, the conditions tended to reflect her feelings, which were rather bleak at the moment. Just like everyone else's.

The den, and the mood of the three men scattered within, was just as dark and foreboding, despite the soda cans, beer cans, and bowls of popcorn strewn all around. 

Since none of them were in the mood to go out, and Hank and Cecelia had forcibly ejected them all from the medlab, several of the mansion's inhabitants had gathered in the den, watching a mediocre movie on cable. No one seemed to be paying much attention to it, however. Mostly, they were all just sitting there, holding popcorn and staring off into space, lost in their own thoughts.

Rogue was the last to drift in, parking herself on the sofa between Peter and Kurt, while Logan was sprawled out on the love seat, a short distance away, scowling fiercely at nothing in particular. 

It was not a happy group.

How could it be, with the team falling apart piece by piece, Peter moping around, barely speaking to anyone, and haunting the hallway outside the medlab, along with Logan, whose temper was so foul of late that he had taken to growling and snarling as his main form of communication. 

Kurt was just down and droopy, with none of the life and humor they were all used to from the fuzzy Elf. Logan was feeling guilty, blaming himself for not stepping in and forcing Kitty to talk to him, tell him what was going on, before something this drastic happened. 

Rogue was just worried sick about Kitty and Betsy, blaming herself for suggesting the sparring match in the first place, and was picking up on everyone else's bad mood through osmosis , leaving the Southerner in an exceptionally foul, depressed mood.

Neal, Bishop, Tessa, and Ororo had postponed their plans to leave until they knew that Kitty and Betsy were definitely going to be ok, though they were obviously antsy to be out before Jean and Professor Xavier returned from where ever they'd gone off to over a month ago.

She, Betsy and Hank would be next, once the other four were gone. By the middle of next month, the only X-Men left in residence would be Cecelia, Peter, Bobby, Logan, Kurt, and Kitty. But no, if she recovered, Kitty would be leaving for Muir about the same time as she, Psylocke, and Beast departed. Rogue sent up a silent prayer that her friend would recover and be well, and herself, again. 

Suddenly, it was as if the team were just breaking apart, everybody going their separate ways, and not under the most pleasant of circumstances. Perhaps they were seeing the end of the X-Men, at least in it's present incarnation.

With a defeated sigh, she leaned over slightly, laying her head against Peter's shoulder and glancing up at his face, her heart going out to him. He was hurting and worrying himself to death. It was written in his expression, in his posture, in the dark cloud that seemed to hang directly over his head. The boy never had been any good at hiding his feelings. Especially where Kitty was concerned. 

She hoped they could eventually work it out. It was obvious to everyone how very much Peter cared for Kitty, and just as obvious how hard Kitty was trying to pretend that she wasn't interested, that she was over him. The Southerner knew from experience that there were just some things that you never got over.

Over on the love seat, Logan fidgeted restlessly, bored with the movie and feeling cooped up, caged, inside the walls of the mansion. He'd rather be outside, in the woods, in the rain, but he didn't want to risk something changing with Kitty while he was gone. 

"Y'know," Rogue spoke up into the silence, unable to take another second of the angst filled atmosphere, or of the inane movie they were watching. "maybe we should go out and get some lunch or somethin'. Ah think the weather and bein' cooped up in here for days is startin' to get to all of us."

"I am afraid I do not feel much like going out." Peter interjected, looking down at Rogue.

"Nor do I." Kurt agreed. "For once, even I am not in the mood for lighthearted activities."

"Oh, come on, you guys." Rogue sat up straighter, her green eyes moving around the room. "We can't sit here and mope all the time. If anything happens with Kit or Betts, Hank'll call us. We at least deserve to get out of here for a few minutes. We won't be any good to 'em if we're all so upset an' edgy they can't stand to be around us."

"I am positive you are absolutely right, Elisabeth." Kurt replied. "But, somehow, I just do not have the heart for it at the moment. I cannot forget all that has happened recently. To Kitty, Betsy,....and Moira."

Beside him, Rogue turned, leveling her gaze at the German mutant. "Kurt, Kitty and Betsy are my friends, too. Ah'm just as worried about them as any of you. And Mystique was my momma, in every way that counted. Don't think Ah don't go to bed every night thinkin' about what she did to Moira." 

The Southerners face hardened as she thought of the woman who'd raised her and what that woman had done, assassinating Moira, stabbing Rogue without so much as batting an eye, and using Forge's invention on Rhane, stripping her of her powers. As if killing the girls' Mama wasn't enough. With any luck the mutant shape shifter would rot in prison for all the pain she'd caused. As far as Rogue was concerned, Raven Darkholme was dead.

Kurt turned to her then, a contrite look on his face as he realized that she was right. Of all of them, save Rhane, Rogue had lost the most due to recent events. And now, she would soon be leaving behind her home, and many of those she considered her family, as well.

"Forgive me, Rogue. I was not thinking. The last thing you need right now is for me, or any of us." With a nod of his head, he indicated the rest of the group. "to sit here and feel sorry for ourselves, as if we are the only ones in the world who are hurting. This time must be nearly as difficult for you as it is for Rhane." 

Rogue gave him tight smile as she shook her head. "Nah, Rhaney's got a whole lot worse time of it than me. Moira was a good woman. She never did anything in her life but help people. But Mystique's always been on the wrong side of things. Just couldn't seem to help herself. Ah always knew she'd come to a bad end. Ah just didn't know she'd try to take me an' half the people I know out with her."

Peter, sitting on her other side, took her slim, gloved hand in his, squeezing it gently. "In her way, I am sure she loves you very much. After all, she took you in, raised you, and, from all I have heard, was good to you."

"Maybe," she conceded, but her expression was rather pensive. "but that woman don't exist no more. Ah don't even recognize the monster she's become. She's crazy. And Ah don't know what's more to blame, Irene's damned diaries, or her own stubborn nature that made her keep on tryin' ta figure them out when she knew it was hopeless."

"If ya feel that way 'bout the diaries, why're ya goin' off on this quest with 'Ro's team?" Logan asked curiously, speaking for the first time since she'd entered the room. He had his own doubts about the wisdom of gathering all of those books in one place. To his way of thinking, that only made them more dangerous.

"'Cause Irene meant for me to go, and she was never anything but kind to me. Ah owe it to her to help find 'em, if we can, and try to keep 'em away from people like Mystique, who want to use 'em as an excuse to cause misery and hurt to the rest of the world."

"But who is to say, no matter who has the books, that they will not always be a problem?" For the first time in days, the the dull, disheartened expression lifted slightly from Kurt's face, replaced by interest. He'd been somewhat hurt by not being asked to go with Ororo's team and, so, had avoided any mention of it, and it's purpose, until now. "Especially if they are all found and brought together. It appears to me that, as long as they exist on this earth, they will present an almost irresistible temptation. There will always be someone who believes they can use them, that they can be the ones to finally crack the code and change the future."

Rogue gazed up at him with her sea green eyes, then let her gaze move around the room, alighting briefly on the rest of her friends and team mates. The three other people in this room, Kit and Betsy down in the medlab, and Remy in New Orleans, were probably her closest friends in the world, but she still wasn't sure she should tell them what she intended. If it got back to Storm, it could be disastrous. 

But, if she couldn't trust these, of all people, then there was no one she could trust.

"Ah've thought of that, but let me tell ya...if we manage to bring all those diaries together, I don't intend that they go on existin'. 'Cause Ah don't think there's anybody on earth who can handle 'em, read 'em, and not be drove plum crazy by 'em."

**********************************************************************************************************************

Betsy gaped at her, completely dumbfounded, and absolutely horrified. "Kitty, you can't be serious. Are you telling me those dreams, those horrible images, were real? That they happened to **you**?"

"No, not me, exactly. More like my counterpart from an alternate universe or dimension. Limbo is really, really hard to explain if you've never been there. But what concerns me is how you got sucked in along with me. It shouldn't have been possible."

The lavender haired ninja appeared lost in thought for a moment. Then, she turned back to Kitty. " I think I have an idea."

"Well, by all means, lets hear it. At this point, I'm open to anything." Even as she tried to maintain an appearance of outward calm, Kitty's mind was working furiously. With what she'd just learned, she couldn't risk staying here any longer. She was too much of a danger to those close to her. If the Soulsword could do it once, it could, and would, do it again. 

"I never told you this," Now Betsy looked slightly embarrassed as she gave Kitty an apologetic smile. "but after you were injured in the Morelock massacre, when I was holding you together, we forged some sort of permanent, telepathic bond."

"You mean, like Jean and Scott used to have?" Kitty asked, more puzzled than concerned. She hadn't noticed any kind of bond like she'd heard the Summers describe.

"Sort of, yes, but more subtle. Most of the time, unless we were in close proximity to one another, I never noticed it. Even then, all I would get were vague impressions and scattered feelings and emotions." Betsy smiled wryly at the other woman. "You know, you've never been exactly easy to read in the first place."

"Yes, and I like it that way." Kitty made an effort to return her smile, but it wasn't very convincing. As she thought back, she decided it would have been surprising if she and Betsy hadn't formed some kind of link, considering how deep into her mind the telepath had to go in order to hold her together, and how long she'd had to do it. "Besides, it's not like you're gonna run off and sell off all my secrets to the Hellfire Club or the Marauders."

"No, probably not." she agreed with a laugh. "Anyway, after I lost my telepathy, I figured the bond was gone, too, so I never bothered to mention it." She leaned forward slightly toward Kitty. "But what if it wasn't? What if it's still there, just...dormant? Maybe between the Soulsword and the Crimson Dawn, which I still don't know very much about, we somehow got linked together again."

Kitty tilted her head thoughtfully, then nodded. "Makes sense to me. If you mix the Soulsword and the Crimson Dawn together, God alone knows what you'll get."

"Apparently, you get red eyed, glowing, ninja-bots who put one another into comas." Betsy supplied helpfully, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"That does **not** make me feel any better." Kitty leveled her golden brown eyes at the other woman, completely unamused. Betsy tended to not take things any more seriously than she absolutely had to, but Kitty knew just exactly how dangerous this situation was. 

"Well, it shouldn't make you feel any worse. It wasn't your fault." Betsy assured her, studying the younger woman with those piercing violet eyes that seemed to see right through to your soul. "What are you going to do about the Soulsword, now? I thought Kurt's old girlfriend, Amanda, had the bloody thing and was watching over Limbo with it."

"There's nothing I can do. Not really." Kitty told her dejectedly. "I don't dare call it to me and accept it willingly. You've heard what it did to Illyana, what it's done to me the couple of times I've actually tried to wield it. It's bad news."

"But it seems as though it's affecting you, whether you accept it or not." Betsy told her gently. "We've all certainly noticed a change in your behavior lately."

"I know." Kitty dropped her head, sighing heavily. "I'm afraid, eventually, it'll take me, whether I want it to or not. That's a big part of why I'm leaving to go stay with Rhane on Muir. To get away from here, away from Peter."

"Why?" Psylocke looked confused. "I know you and Peter haven't exactly been the best of friends in a while, but I didn't think things were that bad between the two of you."

"Peter is Illyana's brother, her closest living blood relative. The sword came to me through Illyana, though I'm not exactly sure why. I have an idea, though, that it has something to do with Cat. It doesn't want just me. The sword wants Peter, too. I can't, I won't put him in that kind of danger." Kitty stated firmly. It might hurt him, hurt them both, in the short run, but in the long run, it would save his soul.

"So, where does Amanda fit into all of this?" asked Becky again, still confused, but Kitty could only shrug.

"Honestly, I really don't know. She can wield the sword, apparently without harm. At least, so far as I know. But, it's like it doesn't want her. And, " she added as another though occurred to her. "I would have expected to hear from her by now if she were having trouble with it, but so far, not a peep. That's really strange, now that I think about it. But I don't have any way to contact her."

The two women fell into silence then, both trying to come to grips with the things they'd just learned. Finally, it was Betsy who broke the silence.

"So, where do you go from here?"

A cloud seemed to pass over Kitty's face as she looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Away, Betsy. Just...away."

**********************************************************************************************************************

Roguescanned the other faces in the room, looking for their reactions, but no one seemed particularly surprised or upset by what she'd said. In fact, she saw more than one head nod in agreement. One of them was Kurt's.

"I must admit, I have had my own doubts. Especially since we acquired those five volumes of the Diaries from Mystique. I do not trust Charles to resist the temptation of the Books of Truth, and I am not sure I trust anyone else, for that matter, with that kind of tainted, skewed, knowledge. We," With a sweep of his blue furred arms, Nightcrawler included not only the people in the room with him, but all the X-Men in general. "all of us, have a great deal of power. Our blessing, and our curse. How can any of us say, if we had the ability to know the future that awaited us, that we would not try to change it?"

"Yeah," Rogue agreed. "I think that's one reason Irene let the set be broken up. Even she didn't put much faith in 'em, far as bein' a guide. But it's too temptin' to use 'em, to try an' change things."

"And we have seen what that can lead to." 

As everyone seemed to ponder his statement, thoughts undoubtedly turning to Mystique, Moria, and Rhane, Peter's gaze wandered around the dim room. So few of them left now, and more yet to leave. He tried to imagine what the mansion would be like with so many of his friends gone.

"So many are leaving, or have already gone. In a few days, there will only be a handful of us left here. I fear it will be very lonely and very quiet."

Absently, Rogue shifted her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He had such big hands, such fearsome raw power at his command, but he was one of the gentlest, most sensitive, people she knew.

"Why don't you get outta here too, Petey?" she suggested gently. "Honestly, Ah don't understand why you keep doin' this. Ah've never thought you were suited to the constant fightin'. You should be somewhere paintin', raisin' a family, makin' a life for yourself."

"She has a point, Peter." Kurt put in. "Of all of us, you are the one who would most fit in and enjoy life outside the X-Men. You never really wanted to do this in the first place. You only did it because it was asked of you, and you felt it was the right thing at the time."

But Peter only dropped his eyes, looking about as dejected as any of them had seen him since Illyana's death.

"Where would I go? And who would there be for me to make a life with?" He shook his head sadly. "No. Better that I stay here, where I at least have a chance to do something worthwhile. With all the new students coming, they are going to need all the teachers they can get. Especially with so many of the team going their separate ways."

Rogue's eyebrows shot up and she threw him an extremely skeptical look. "Oh, please! Ah know ya love kids, but you don't seriously expect me to believe you want to stay here and teach the mutant youth of America? Especially under Emma Frost?"

Almost as an automatic response to the mere mention of the former White Queen, everyone in the room cringed, winced, and shuddered at the same time. Professor Xavier might think she had changed, but most of them still didn't trust her in the least.

Against his will, Peter had to grin, looking a little sheepish as he realized how absurd it actually sounded. "Perhaps you are right." 

"Of course Ah am." Rogue put in smugly, and his grin widened. Then, he paused, taking a deep breath and exhaling heavily. 

"I have no desire at all to work under, or with, Emma. Whatever the Professor may believe, I do not trust her."

"Amen to that."

"Me neither."

"Nein. Nor do I. I believe Herr Professor may be inviting the wolf among the sheep."

"And I do not know if I have the heart or the stomach to continue fighting as I have been for so many years." Peter continued. "I have grown weary of a struggle that never seems to make a difference, no matter what we do, no matter what we sacrifice. I would like a somewhat normal life, if such a thing is possible for the likes of us. There must be something more than this."

His companions nodded knowingly. Peter wasn't the first one to have expressed that sentiment lately. And the good Lord above knew the big Russian, in particular, had paid a high price for his dedication to The Dream. 

Many of them seemed tired, worn out from the constant struggle and inevitable disappointments, and the few gathered here wondered how long it would be before the X-Men were forced to take a good, long, hard look at what they were doing and ask themselves if it had really made any difference at all.

**********************************************************************************************************************

After checking over every inch of her body, inside and out, as thoroughly as the X-Men's considerable medical technology would allow, which was very, very thoroughly, Henry McCoy and Cecelia Reyes pronounced that Kitty seemed to be suffering no lasting effects from her recent near death experience.

They unhooked her from all but one or two monitors and the IV drip, making her feel much less like some weird science experiment and a little more human. She'd been badgering them ceaselessly let her out of here and back to her own room, as had Betsy, but they'd both remained immovable. It seemed they would be stuck here at least until tomorrow. 

Kitty told herself she could tough it out. It was only one more night, but she was anxious to get out of here, get back to her room and start trying to make some sense out of what had happened to her, the things she'd seen. There had to be some meaning there, something that she was missing, that would give her a clue as to what to do.

What she had learned upon waking up had left her no choice. She had to get out of here and away from those close to her until she could get this sorted out. And that meant she wouldn't be going to Muir, either. Kitty wouldn't risk Rhane anymore than she would her friends here.

She wasn't sure exactly where she **would** go, but she would think of something. 

But it hurt, God, how it hurt. The X-Men were her family, the only real family she had who cared whether she lived or died. What kind of life would she have without them? Without Logan, and Kurt, and Rogue, and Betsy...and Peter.

No matter how hard she tried, how many times she sought to convince herself that it was over between them, had been over for a long, long time, it seemed her thoughts always turned back to him in the end.

Lying in the hospital bed, unmoving, her eyes closed tightly as she pretended to sleep, Kitty thought of her dreams, what she'd seen as she lay unconscious, the love she'd **felt** between that other Peter and Cat. 

If they had lived, had gotten out of Limbo as her own team had, would they have managed to make it work? Could they have avoided the pitfall's that she and her Peter had fallen prey to? She liked to believe that they would have, that, somehow, those two might have made it to happily ever after.

After all, the precedent seemed to be for them to be together. In the timeline Rachel Summers was from, where Sentinels had decimated the mutant population, she and Peter had been married. They had never gone to Limbo, he had never fallen in love with someone else, she had never gone to Japan and become involved with Ogun and everything that happened there. 

And then, there was the timeline that Nate Grey came from, where Apocalypse ruled much of the world. There, again, she and Peter were married, teaching the next generation of mutants under Magneto.

Or yet another alternate timeline that Brian Braddock had seen during the period he was lost in the time stream. In that reality, she and Peter had left Excalibur to return to the US and marry.

The list went on and on, yet here, in her reality, they seemed doomed from the start to make every mistake possible with one another, to do everything they could to insure that they **wouldn't **be together. Yet, neither of them seemed able to be content with anyone else.

Kitty knew now, as she had really always known and never before admitted, that she never would be. At some point along the way, she had accepted that the only man she really wanted was the one she could never have. 

Perhaps it was her destiny to be taken by the Soulsword, to become the mistress of Limbo, ruling there for all time. Alone. Perhaps that was why nothing else in her life seemed to work.

Maybe she should just give in to the inevitable.

Her musings were interrupted as Cecelia brought her and Betsy their dinner tray. Setting Kitty's on the tray table by her bed, the X-Men's newest physician looked the sullen, morose young woman over seriously.

"Kitty, I won't pretend to know exactly what's going on with you, other than the obvious, but you can't avoid your friends forever. They were worried sick about you."

Kitty picked up her fork, toying with her food listlessly, refusing to meet Cecelia's eyes. "I just don't want to see anybody right now."

The dark skinned doctor sighed heavily, shaking her head in irritation, causing her corn-rowed hair to swing out around her shoulders.

"Yes. I know, but you might feel better for a little company." She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the edge of the mattress. "They just want to see you. I know you and Elisabeth have both been through a really rough time. Hell, we still don't understand for sure what happened, but you'd really make your friends feel better if you'd see them, even if it's only for a minute. They're worrying themselves to death about you, and not just because of what happened with all this," Her arms swept wide to include the entire medlab, as well as her current situation. "They've been worried about you for weeks now."

Tired, scared, and absolutely heartsick, Kitty's temper ignited in a flash. How dare this woman, who knew basically nothing about her, or her life, or her **hurt, **presume to tell her what she needed to do, how she should act?

Kitty turned to her then, her eyes blazing with fury and narrowed dangerously, face hard as stone. Anyone who'd ever seen Wolverine in a really bad mood would have recognized the look. "You're right. You don't know what's going on with me. You don't know anything about me, what I've been through, or what I want. So just **back off**." She hissed the words out as her hand shot out to shove at Cecelia, throwing the doctor back, away from her, with surprising strength, and causing her to stumble as she tried to regain her balance. 

Dr. Reyes straightened up, taking another step back from her patient, trying not to show her surprise at the girls sudden, violent reaction. In the next bed over, Betsy leapt up, her mouth open in shock at the force of Kitty's reaction, ready to intervene.

But Cecelia, after a moment to recover, waved her back to bed.

Yes, she had pushed her a little, but gently, hoping to cajole the young woman out from behind the wall she'd been building around herself, hoping to get her talking about what was bothering her. She'd fully expected her to be ignored, but she hadn't expected the cold, bright fury she felt rolling off Kitty in waves. Whatever was wrong, the girl was a walking time bomb if she didn't get it sorted out. And soon.

"Fine. I'll back off. But, before I do, you need to know one more thing. Logan and Peter, Ororo, and Kurt, have been waiting either beside your bed or right outside this room, day and night, for well over a week, worrying themselves to death about you. They thought you were going to die. And with damn good reason." 

Her own temper over riding her caution, Cecelia leaned in close to Kitty again, noticing that Betsy was back in bed, but keeping a close eye on them, her body tensed for action. "Girl, I saw the **Wolverine** shed **tears** over you." As Kitty simply continued to glare at her, Cecelia threw up her hands in frustration. "Nobody deserves to be treated like you're treating them now. Especially people that love you."

Without waiting for Kitty to reply, Cecelia whirled around and strode off, leaving Kitty with her guilt, sorrow and self-loathing. And her bright, raging inferno of anger at whatever destiny had decided that she would never be allowed even a moments peace and happiness in this life.

_**This is just too hard. I can't do it anymore. I have to get out of here.**_

Pushing her uneaten dinner away, and ignoring Betsy's attempts to get her attention, she curled up on her side, laying her head on the pillow as she closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to sleep. To escape.

_You cannot escape Destiny._

**********************************************************************************************************************

The commotion outside the medlab jerked her from that in between place, that realm of drifting between sleep and waking, where you were still aware of your surroundings, of what was going on, but you really didn't care. 

It was all fuzzy and peaceful and contented. At least, until there was what appeared to be a costumed mob riot going on about twenty feet from your bed.

Kitty and Betsy both sat up quickly, exchanging uneasy looks as they wondered what the hell was happening. 

Through the partially open door, they could see Hank, Logan, Ororo, Kurt, and Cecelia, and Kitty thought she also heard Neal and Peter out there as well. It appeared as if everyone had just come out of the Danger Room in the middle of a workout.

With a sigh, Kitty turned over, calling out to Dr. McCoy, who was making his best effort which - for the Beast - was considerable, to quiet everybody down before they woke up his two patients.

"Too late Hank. We're up." 

On hearing Kitty's voice, everything came to an abrupt and total stop, Hank looking from Kitty and Betsy to the group gathered outside and back again before reluctantly waving Logan and Neal inside.

"Forgive us, Elisabeth, Katherine." Hank apologized as he moved out into the hall with everyone else, pulling the partially door closed as he went. He was smiling at them sheepishly, absently pushing his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, but there was a strange look in his eyes that Kitty couldn't quite decipher. "It has been a rather...interesting...morning."

The two women were left to wonder what the good doctor had meant by that comment as Logan swept around the huge, blue furred man as if he weren't there, Neal directly on his heels, striding toward them purposefully, his face unreadable.

Neal stopped by Kitty's bed for a moment to see how she was feeling and make a little idle chit chat as Logan did the same with Betsy. Then, the two men switched places and Kitty was left to stare up at a fiercely scowling Wolverine.

She winced inwardly and braced herself for a good tongue lashing for not letting him in to see her before now.

Not that she'd blame him. She knew she deserved it. 

Despite her earlier determination to distance herself from her friends until she could leave, Kitty found her heart lightening, extremely glad to see him regardless of the fact that he was about to yell at her. 

To her surprise, he reached down to her, gathering her up and wrapping her in a tight hug.

After the initial shock wore off, Kitty returned his embrace, burying her face in his yellow and black spandex covered shoulder, comforted by the feel of the familiar material against her cheek, the familiar smell and feel of the man himself.

"How are ya, Kit?" he asked gruffly, pulling back to look her over with his dark, piercing eyes, automatically reaching out with his other senses as well, to assure himself that everything with her was as it should be.

"I've been better." she replied tiredly, swiping at the tears that were spilling down her face. Until that moment, Kitty hadn't even been aware she was crying. "Obviously. But I'll live. At least, so they tell me."

One big, powerful hand came up, swiping the tears from her cheek with a calloused thumb, as he gently tilted her chin up with the other.

"I was worried about ya, Pun'kin'. We almost lost ya." he told her sincerely, his voice a little more gruff than usual, and Kitty thought about what Cecelia had told her, how he'd cried for her, and she felt supremely ashamed of herself for putting him off, for not agreeing to see him immediately.

"I'm sorry, Logan. I didn't mean to worry you, or anyone else. I just...well, I just haven't felt much like company." Kitty gave him a weak, apologetic smile. 

Right now, she'd like nothing better than to just spill her guts to him, tell him everything, but she couldn't. She'd sworn Betsy to silence, albeit under protest, and couldn't talk to anyone else, couldn't risk bringing another person into this mess until she had a chance to learn more. Or maybe she'd never be able to, depending on how things ended up. 

She'd seen what happened to that first team of X-Men who entered Limbo. She'd actually lived through it, thanks to her dreams. And she knew she'd rather die herself than watch that happen to her friends again. Her soul wouldn't be such a high price to pay if it meant saving them.

"Yeah, I know, but I had to see fer myself that ya were ok." Almost absently, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of her long, chestnut hair away from her face. "Sorry we woke ya up."

"It's ok. I wasn't really asleep anyway. And even when I am, it doesn't do me much good." At his curious look, she shrugged helplessly. "Nightmares." she said by way of explanation.

Releasing her, Logan looked down at her for a moment before speaking again. "Ya ready ta get back ta yer own room? McCoy says me and Neal can spring the two o' you, if ya want. Provided ya take it easy."

"I will do anything to get out of here and back to my own room." she stated vehemently, throwing back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed before anyone could change their mind. Glancing in Betsy's direction, Kitty saw her doing the same thing and the two women exchanged a smile of relief, both more than happy to be set free at last.

Logan surprised her yet again as she started to stand up. Instead of letting her walk out on her own two feet, he easily scooped her up and headed for the door as she draped her arms loosely around his neck. 

As they entered the hall and turned toward the elevator, Kitty could hear the faint echo of voices from farther down the hall, from the direction of the medlab's conference rooms. Thinking of the crowd and commotion outside the medlab just a few minutes ago, Kitty looked up at Logan curiously.

"What, exactly, is going on, Logan? What's with all the commotion this morning?"

"We'll talk about it when we get ya back ta yer room." He pinned her with his dark, piercing eyes, and Kitty felt an involuntary shudder run through her. "I think we've got a lot of things ta discuss."

**********************************************************************************************************************

"Oh, my God..." Kitty gasped softly, stunned, one hand covering her face as she closed her eyes, trying to process what Logan had just told her.

Once they'd gotten to her room, he'd left her to clean up and change clothes as he went to do the same. 

Though she found herself to be weaker than she would have liked to admit, Kitty was determined to take a shower before she changed and went back to bed. She felt grimy and icky from being stuck in the medlab so long. And she knew it was all in her mind, but she swore she smelled like alcohol and disinfectant. 

When she was done, she found Logan already back in her room, dressed in his customary flannel shirt and jeans. He waited patiently while she'd finished dressing in a light sweat suit, then tucked her directly into bed like she was ten years old. 

After he'd taken up his post in a chair beside her bed, watching her like a hawk, he'd dropped the bomb on her that had been dropped on everyone else early this morning.

"It's wonderful.." she said when she could speak again. "..and horrible, all at the same time." Kitty took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to try and clear her head. The whole thing was like some bad fairy tale. Like the story of the monkey's paw, where you make a wish and it gets granted, only in the most twisted, distorted way possible. "So, we have a cure for Legacy, only we can't use it because somebody has to die for it to work? Un-fucking-believable!"

If she thought Logan would let her out of bed, she'd be pacing the room right about now. How much more would they all have to endure? Wasn't it enough that they'd already lost so many to this damned virus Stryfe had loosed on the world. Did they now have to sacrifice another one of their number to stop it?

And, she knew, without even really giving it any thought, that it would be one of the X-Men to lay down their life if another way couldn't be found. It always was. And this time bomb had to be stopped, before it infected the entire world. If left to it's own devices, it would eventually scour the earth. No one would be safe, mutant or otherwise.

She'd been to Genosha, recently, had seen the Legacy camps there. It was a real life version of Dante's Inferno, a living hell on earth filled with the torments of the damned and dying. No human being, be they mutant or non-mutant, deserved to spend their last days in such a place.

Genosha, an entire nation, was dying and the only way to stop the death of millions might be the death of one. But that one would be, in all likelihood, someone she knew, someone she loved, someone who was part of her family.

As she pondered this, her mind suddenly cleared and a calm settled over her. Raising her head, she met Logan's eyes, her gaze steady and level as they stared at eachother in silence. 

They'd been friends, family, since she was thirteen years old, saved one another's lives more times over than either of them could possibly remember. The two of them didn't need telepathy to read one another's minds and she saw his eyes widen as he realized what she was thinking. 

"NO!" he growled, jumping from his chair to lean over her where she sat up in her bed, getting right in her face. "I've already had this discussion with half the flamin' people in this house. I'm not havin' it with you, too, so just let it go. We are **not** gonna talk about this. What'cher thinkin' is crazy."

Kitty didn't even flinch, even though she was almost nose to nose with a man that terrified most people just by virtue of his very presence. In many ways, though on her it wasn't as obvious, she was just as fierce, just as hard, just as deadly, as the Wolverine ever was. He'd recognized that right off, had taught her to fight, had taught her to harness that wild rage and make it work for her. She wasn't intimidated by him in the least.

"You're right. We're not gonna discuss this. There's nothing to discuss. My mind is made up. If somebody has to make the sacrifice, if Hank and Cecelia can't come up with any other way, I'll do it. Trust me, at this point, it'll be a blessing." 

She said it all so calmly, so cooly, that it sent a chill down Logan's spine. The girl could be as hard and cold as ice when she wanted to, could shut her feelings and emotions down completely if she set her mind to it. But he wasn't going to let her do that, not now, not to him.

"An' where does that leave th' rest of us, Kit?" He asked as calmly as he could manage. "What about me, and 'Ro and the rest of yer friends, th' people that love you? Are things so bad that ya don't care about anybody else any more?"

Logan watched her reaction with some satisfaction, as the cold, emotionless mask slipped from her face and it turned beet red with anger. Kitty sputtered furiously at him for a minute before she could actually manage to form any words.

"What the hell do you think I've been doing for the last ten years, Logan?" She crossed her arms almost defensively across her chest as hot tears began to spill from her eyes. "I sure as hell haven't been living for myself. Do you think I don't know what this cure means? I **can not **stand by this time while yet another friend goes quietly into that good night. I can't take it any more. One more, that's all it'll take. Just losing one more friend, one more piece of my heart and soul and it won't matter whether I'm dead or alive. I'd be better off dead."

She turned away from him then, struggling to hold back her tears and he sat down on the edge of her bed, putting his arm around her, one rough hand stroking her long hair. They were talking about Legacy, but it was more than that. He knew there was more to this whole thing, something she wasn't telling him, that had her so strung out, that had her emotions running from one extreme to another in the blink of an eye.

"Don't ya think it's time ta tell me what's goin' on, Kit. Ya damn near died, and nobody can seem to figure out exactly why. Not even our resident genius doctor." When Kitty opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. "Now, don't get me wrong. I know somethin' strange is happenin', and I have my suspicions about what it is, but I'd like ta hear it from you."

"I'm sorry, Wolvie, but this isn't something you can help me with." She shook her head sadly. "I wish you could, but it's something I've got to deal with on my own."

But Logan shook his head firmly. "Uh-uh. Not this time. The thing is, it ain't just affectin' you. It's already affected Betsy, and Peter, and even Kurt..."

Her surprise and confusion, when he mentioned Wagner's name, were evident as her head whirled around, her eyes wide. "Kurt? Hank didn't say anything about Kurt being involved in any of this. What happened to Kurt?" She sounded almost panicked and he could smell the fear coming off her. What the hell had the girl got herself into that had her this scared, and apparently almost suicidal?

"Hank don't know nothin' about it. It was somethin' that happened a day or two before all this other, I just never got a chance ta talk to ya about it."

"Logan, for God's sake, would you tell me what happened? I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Not answering for a moment, Logan looked her over carefully. His eyes and, more importantly, his senses told him she was telling the truth. She apparently had no memory of the incident with Kurt. So that begged the question, who, or what, had put the moves on the Elf?

"Yer tellin' me ya don't remember comin' onta the elf, that day ya left the Danger Room, when ya were so pissed off?"

Kitty's eyes narrowed and she practically gaped at him.

"What?! Logan, please define 'coming on to', because you can't possibly mean what I think you mean."

"I mean," he stated baldly. "that ya dropped yer clothes, grabbed his crotch, and put th' moves on him. Nearly scared the fuzz ball ta death."

"Oh..my..God." Her hands flew to her mouth as all the blood drained out of her face, leaving her even more pale than she had been. She began shaking her head violently in denial. "No. I don't remember any of it." Kitty closed her eyes tightly, trying to tamp down the rising nausea and panic. "Oh, God. Logan, are you sure?"

"Well, I wasn't there, but yeah. I doubt 'Crawler'd make somethin' like that up."

"No. No, of course he wouldn't." she replied, almost absently, her eyes glazing over in shock.

To Logan, it was as if all the strength suddenly drained out of her. She bent forward, dropping her head into her hands. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with tears. "God, what is happening to me. How could I do something like that to Kurt? How could I not **remember** it?"

She almost whispered the words, as if she'd forgotten he was there and was talking to herself. He could tell she was exhausted and he wondered about that, too, and the nightmares she'd mentioned, but for right now, they needed to deal with the problem at hand.

Sliding over so they were hip to hip, the gruff Canadian pulled her roughly to him. Kitty clung to him like a burr, as if her were her lifeline.

"Talk ta me, Kit. Tell me what's happenin'. Cause, I gotta tell ya, what I'm thinking is scarin' th' hell outta me."

She buried her face in his soft flannel shirt, like she used to do when she was much younger and in need of reassurance. The feel of the warm, rough material against her face, the way he always seemed to smell of the woods and earth, of wild things, was a comfort to her. He had been much more of a father to her than her own had ever been, and she wanted nothing else right now other than to hand it all over to him and let him fix it for her, but she knew he couldn't. Not this time. 

"I wish I could. I wish it were that easy, Logan. I wish that would help. But it won't. And I won't drag you, or anybody else, into my problems any more than I already have. Not when I know it wouldn't do any good. I won't lose anybody else. I couldn't stand it." 

"How do ya know it won't help unless ya try? Do ya have ta do everything the hard way, Kit?" He gave her a small smile, but she couldn't return it. Not with her whole world crumbling around her.

Instead, her wide eyes shining with tears, she gazed up at him fondly as she laid her palm against his rough, stubbly cheek.

"This from the man whose stubborn refusal to be anything but a loner is legendary among the X-Men?" She shook her head sadly. "No, Wolvie. This is something I have to do alone. It's time to honor an old debt. You, of all people, should understand that." 

Logan took her face in his rough, calloused hands, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"There's just one thing I gotta ask ya. It's been weighin' on my mind ever since this happened." He paused and Kitty could see the pain, and even a little fear, burning behind his nearly black eyes. "I keep thinkin' about Japan...."

He didn't get a chance to finish, as Kitty intercepted his thoughts. Her laugh, when it came, was hard, bitter, and humorless.

"No, Logan. It doesn't have anything to do with Japan. I wish it were as easy as Ogun." she said, with a shake of her head. "I know how to fight him. But it's not. As far as I know, he's gone for good, though what he did to me may have had some bearing on this, or vice versa. I don't know, and probably never will. This...this is a matter of honor, much like your pledge to Mariko, or your marriage to Viper. It's something I have to face myself." She held his gaze steadily with her own, willing him understand. "Sometimes, to keep our word, to pay our debts, we have to do things we'd rather not. You taught me that."

The feral mutant studied her hard for a long while before he finally dropped his hands and nodded. She'd trumped him with the one thing he couldn't argue with, and she knew it. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"All right, I can understand that....Fer now," he added, giving her a look that plainly said: 'don't argue with me, it's as far as I'm willing to go, and farther than I like'. "But, promise me one thing, before you do anything, especially where this Legacy thing is concerned, you'll talk to me first." He waited for her nod of consent before continuing. "And know this, honor or no honor, debt or no debt, if things get worse, and I think I can stop it, I will."

Kitty nodded solemnly, soulful, brown eyes brimming with tears. Did he have any idea, she wondered, just how much he meant to her?

"That's what I'm counting on, Logan. Now, I need you to promise me something." As he had before, she waited for his reluctant nod before speaking again. "If things get to the point where I become...dangerous...and I'm positive you'll be the first to know if it happens...you won't let me hurt anyone. You'll stop me. Any way you have to."

Though it tore his heart out, Logan nodded again. He might not know what was going on with her, but he knew about honor and obligation. It was the code he'd lived his life by. And, he'd taught Kitty all he knew about it as well, just as he'd taught her to fight, to be a warrior. Though, at times like this, he sometimes wished she hadn't learned quite so well. 

But as she honored her obligations, so he would honor his. No matter how much he might wish otherwise.

"It might kill me, Darlin'. But I promise." 

**********************************************************************************************************************

That night, Kitty again dreamed of Illyana.

She was, again, somewhere horrible. But this time, it wasn't Limbo. Not exactly.

Looking around her, at the transformed, twisted buildings, the twisted, malformed people, Kitty remembered all too well exactly where she was. 

Times Square. The middle of the Inferno.

Around her, demons were, literally, raining down from the sky, from the open stepping disk overhead that Illyana had been unable to close. The disk that N'astirh had tricked her into opening. Limbo and Earth were merging and the results of that merging were almost too horrible to imagine.

People, inanimate objects, buildings, cars, everything, were being twisted by the dark magic at work here. Humans were turning into demons. Statues, cars, subway trains, were all being brought to dark, malevolent life, trying to destroy those few people who seemed resistant to the corruption pouring out from Limbo. All around her, the world was going mad.

In the distance, the Empire State Building stood, transformed into a wall of corruption and evil, of total, utter demonic insanity. 

It was the center of this abomination. Somewhere, near the top, where the spire reached into the corrupted sky, Madelyn Pryor prepared to sacrifice her baby, her little, innocent Nathan Christopher, to consecrate a spell that would join the two dimensions permanently.

The X-Men would stop her, and N'astirh, and S'ym, in the end. Kitty knew this for a fact. But she hadn't been brought here to witness that event. What she was meant to see struck far closer to her heart.

The battle for baby Nate had been the last of Inferno. This was what had come before.

It had been Illyana who, unknowingly, had opened the portal between dimensions, and it was Illyana, transformed fully into the demon-like Darkchylde, her golden, blonde beauty replaced by horns, scales and cloven hooves, who had ultimately closed that portal.

The transformation, the pain and horror, and self loathing of what she had become, had nearly driven the young Russian woman mad, but, in the end, she did not fall, she did not fail.

Glowing like the angel of light Kitty had always known she was, Illyana Nikolevona Rasputin opened a stepping disk wide and became a cleansing, white pillar of fire, so bright and beautiful that Kitty could hardly bear to look directly at her. 

Inside that light, Kitty could just barely make out the form of her friend as she hurled the Soulsword into the heart of darkness, sacrificing herself, her life and essence, to close the the link between the two dimensions, sucking the demons back to Limbo from whence they came. 

In the end, all that had been left was her charred, crushed armor, which Rhane cradled in her arms as she wept. 

Peter came then, and Rhane tried to explain to him what had happened to his sister, what she had become, in the end, in order to prevent the demons from overtaking the world.

Kitty wept with Peter as he mourned his Little Snowflake, but a noise from inside the armor drew everyone's attention.

Taking it from Rhane, Peter ripped it open, revealing the tiny, blonde child inside who leapt into her brothers arms.

Of course, Kitty had heard the story, in great detail, from nearly everyone present that day. But she, herself, had not witnessed it. She had been elsewhere at the time, had known something had happened to Illyana when the Soulsword and armor had manifested to her suddenly, but hadn't know what until later.

Now, however, she **was** witnessing it. She knew what she was seeing was real, that this was how it had actually happened. And Kitty immediately noticed something that no one else had ever mentioned, but that caught her attention at once, almost stopping her heart in it's tracks.

It had been Kitty who was supposed to be watching Illyana the day she wandered away, the day she fell into the stepping disk into Limbo. That day was etched onto Kitty's mind for all time, in minute detail.

She clearly remembered what the little girl had been wearing that day, a light green long sleeved shirt with darker green pants, her hair had been shoulder length and curly, and she'd been clutching that ratty, old, stuffed bear she'd been so attached to. 

This child, the one they pulled from Illyana's armor, had Illyana's face, spoke with Ilyana's voice, looked out at the world with Illyana's eyes, but her hair was waist length and straight, and she was wearing a long pink nightgown and little pink bedroom slippers, as if she'd been snatched into Limbo from her bed. 

Before Kitty could give it more thought, the scene before her began to fade away, and again, she heard Rhane's voice, faint, far away. And, again, overlaying it, the voice of the sword.

_"She wasn't the Darkchylde at the end, she was an Angel...a being of light...burning so bright we could hardly stand to look at her. She sacrificed herself...and saved the whole world."_

_True innocence of spirit cannot be tainted by evil._

Again, she saw the objects, the glowing silver sword, the image of a bird made of flames, and the leather bound book with it's title in Latin. But, this time, there was a fourth object, and it was one Kitty immediately recognized. Beside the other three was the glowing golden image of the Bloodstone Amulet. And again there were the same words.

_There is Justice. There is Power. There is Knowledge. And the Keeper holds the Key._

_**********************************************************************************************************************_

**Many, many thanks to my reviewers:**

Caliente: You are just a peach! Hope this chapter answered some of your questions about Kitty's connection to Betsy. And I still haven't forgotten about Amanda, but we probably won't see her till after chapter 9. I've gotta get Kitty out of Westchester and to somebody who can help her figure out what's going on. I do appreciate your patience and, I promise, all will be made clear in time. But I will give you a hint: Yes, Destiny's journals will end up figuring into all this.

Evanescence kicks ass: Welcome aboard and thanks for your review! Glad you're enjoying the story. Actually, it's meant to be a tad confusing right now. Things will begin to clear up some after the next two chapters. I hope. There will **definitely** be some Kitty/Peter action. You'll get a taste in chapter 9. BTW, love your name and yes, I think they do too.

**A/N: **This chapter nearly drove me insane, and I'm still not sure I'm all that pleased with it, but I finally got it to, mostly, do what I wanted. Chapter 9 seems to be going better so far. So, join us next time as we learn the fate of the Legacy cure, many mutants depart from Westchester, and Kitty and Peter end up in a rather emotional confrontation about their feelings. Please review. All reviews are welcome. I know you're out there. I can hear you breathing.

Ack! Almost forgot. Rhane's dialogue from Inferno comes from New Mutants #73. 


	9. Alone All Along

_**Diclaimer: **Sigh._ X-Men still aren't mine, but Marvel's gonna have to send them all for major psychotherapy when I'm done. Making no money here.

Forget continuity. Left that behind a while back. Set sometime shortly after X-Men #109, but I've done a lot of rearranging of characters whereabouts to suit the story.

What was originally supposed to have been chapter 9 has now taken on a life of it's own and turned into chapter 9, 10, and 11. The next two chapters are mostly done and chapter 10 will be up just as soon as I get it proof read.

_***********************************************************************************************************************_

**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 9 – Alone All Along**

The blare of hard rock and the acrid smell of sweat and whiskey assailed her senses as she stepped into the noisy, crowded club. 

Kitty suddenly found herself caught in the press of bodies near the entrance as she was bumped hard from behind, the force of the collision nearly unbalancing her. As she grabbed out blindly for a handhold to steady herself, she resisted the urge to just phase through the whole tangle of humanity, but just barely. 

"Sorry, Kit." Rogue said practically into her ear as they were shoved almost on top of one another in the jostling crowd. 

Kitty gave silent thanks for the sheer body stocking the other woman wore under her emerald green leather mini dress. She didn't particularly relish the prospect of being suddenly unconscious on the floor. Especially not this floor.

"It's ok. If I'm gonna get felt up, at least it's someone I know." she replied wryly, wondering how the hell they'd managed to talk her into this. It was supposed to have been a nice, quiet dinner out, maybe a little dancing. No one had mentioned a visit to purgatory.

"Ah hate to break it to ya, Sugah, but you ain't my type." Rogue deadpanned.

Kitty shrugged, or at least she tried to. "Yeah, well, I guess a girl can't have everything."

"Hey, I think I see a table." Bobby shouted out from right next to her, practically yelling his declaration into her ear, causing her to jerk back instinctively. "Let's go, before somebody else gets it."

She felt his hand settle lightly onto her bare lower back, - just above the low slung, chocolate brown, leather jeans she wore with her matching, stretch lace, crop top - as he steered her in the direction of the aforementioned table and Kitty heaved a deep sigh, resisting the urge to tell him, in no uncertain terms, to keep his hands to himself.

It wasn't his fault. Not really. Bobby Drake was a nice guy and she liked him a lot. As a friend. Nothing more. Now, if only she could convince him of that.

A large contributor to her surly mood, Kitty knew, was that she felt...exposed was really the only word she could come up with...in the outfit she'd let Betsy talk her into wearing. For some reason she just couldn't explain, she was even more uncomfortable dressed this way here, in this club, where there were plenty of women wearing much, much less, than she had been wearing her new costume in front of everyone in the Danger Room. 

Heck, the other four women in her group were wearing less than she was, but she still couldn't seem to shake her awkward unease. 

As she threaded her way through the throng of people toward what she assumed must be the table Bobby had spotted, Kitty tried to look over her shoulder to make sure everyone else was still with them. All she could really see of the rest of their party was a flash of Ororo's snow white mane and Peter's dark head as he towered over the rest of the group.

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before he quickly looked away, leaving her feeling vaguely hurt, though she kept telling herself that his continued shunning of any contact with her was for the best. 

It had been a rather rough week and Kitty had been hoping to avoid this type of noisy, crowded atmosphere, but everyone else had seemed up for it and she hadn't wanted to be the wet blanket in the group. 

Now, they were here and she was really wishing she'd just called a cab to take her back to the mansion after dinner. With everything she had on her mind right now, she wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs anyway, and she doubted any of her friends would have missed her very much. Well, except for maybe Bobby.

Somehow, - Kitty still wasn't sure exactly how it had come about - she'd been unofficially paired up with him at dinner. After that, he'd seemed to consider her his date and she hadn't quite known how to convince him otherwise without hurting his feelings. It was beginning to be a very awkward situation and, at this point, Kitty was just praying he wasn't going to try to kiss her, or something equally awkward. 

They eventually made it through the crowd to the large, empty booth Bobby had spotted, and Kitty slid in, Bobby, of course, sliding in right next to her. She stopped in the middle as Rogue and Kurt slid in from the opposite side of the horseshoe shaped seat and she ended up sandwiched between the image inducer disguised fuzzy elf and the human popsicle.

She and Kurt were still a little uncomfortable around one another, which seemed really strange, considering how close they normally were. But neither of them had quite been able to put the incident, which Kitty had privately dubbed "The Crotch Grabbing Episode", completely behind them.

Kitty still didn't remember it, but Kurt wasn't aware of that. She'd apologized to him repeatedly after he'd come to visit her when she left the medlab, and, of course, he'd graciously accepted her apology, telling her it was already forgotten, but things still weren't quite right between them. Yes, she'd told herself she wanted to distance herself from her friends, but this wasn't quite the way she'd had in mind.

Betsy and Neal ended up on one end of the booth, with Betsy next to Rogue and Neal on the end, while Tessa slid up next to Bobby and Bishop next to her. Peter and Ororo came after them, taking the other end of the booth, Ororo next to Bishop and Peter sliding in close to her to give Logan room on the outside. They were crammed in pretty tight, but they all fit. 

As conversations and discussions began around her, Kitty let her gaze drift from face to face, but she wasn't really listening to what anyone was saying. She let it all roll over and through her as she thought about the coming days.

Tomorrow, Neal and Betsy would be gone, along with Bishop and Ororo. Two days after that, Rogue was leaving, and possibly Hank as well. 

He and Cecelia had bowed out of tonight's outing, staying at the mansion to do some more work on the Legacy cure. They had, literally, been working day and night almost non-stop, but they hadn't had any luck figuring out a way around Stryfe's diabolical design for spreading the cure. 

The two doctors claimed to still have high hopes, but Kitty wasn't convinced. She'd seen how dejected Hank had been the past several days, knowing it to be a sure sign that things weren't going well. A decision would have to be made soon and she had a very good idea of what it would be. It was the main reason she was still hanging around. 

She hadn't told anyone that she wasn't going to Muir and she didn't intend to. When the time was right, she planned on just disappearing without a trace. She had very little left at the mansion, anyway, just a few pictures, her laptop, and some clothes. It would be a simple matter to gather it up and be gone before anyone was the wiser.

It would hurt them. It would hurt her. But, until she knew exactly what she was dealing with where the Soulsword was concerned, she couldn't risk another episode like the one with Betsy, or something even worse.

All week, she'd been writing down and studying everything she could remember about her dreams, or visions, or whatever they were, in the hopes that something would eventually strike a cord, make all the seemingly unrelated pieces make sense, but nothing had. She was no closer to unraveling the puzzle of the Soulsword than she had been before. 

The most infuriating thing about it all was that some of it seemed so familiar sometimes. She would think she almost had it, had almost put it all together and made the connection, but then it would slip away again, leaving her frustrated and angry. Kitty knew she needed to talk with someone familiar with the occult and mystical objects, but she couldn't think of anyone she would trust to help her with this.

At least the more horrible dreams seemed to have stopped, and, as far as she knew, there hadn't been any new episodes of her blacking out or doing extremely strange or violent things under the swords influence. Indeed, all her dreams had been almost exactly the same for the last several nights. The images of the sword, the firebird, and the book, along with the Bloodstone Amulet, and the same words over and over again. 

Obviously, these images were supposed to tell her something, but she'd be damned if she knew what and it was driving her crazy. And, amidst it all, she still wasn't sure in the least that she could even trust what the sword was showing her or telling her.

"Hey, Kitty...wanna dance?"

Bobby's hopeful voice brought her out of her thoughts and she realized with a start that they were alone at the table. Everyone else, even Logan, seemed to be out on the dance floor.

"I guess..." she began tentatively, then shrugged. Why not? "Sure." 

She let him take her hand and lead her out to the floor, completely unaware of the multitude of admiring glances aimed her way as she passed by.

There was a fast song playing as they took the floor and Kitty was surprised to find that Bobby was actually a better than average dancer. When she commented on it, he just grinned in that boyish way he had and shrugged.

"My mom taught me. So she'd have somebody to dance with at weddings, since my dad would rather commit suicide with a rusty spoon than dance in public."

The comment had Kitty laughing for the first time in days and she began to think that maybe the night might at least be bearable after all. Bobby was funny, and smarter than everyone seemed to give him credit for. At least he was good company. 

"Well, she did a good job." Kitty assured him, receiving a wide smile as a reward. 

"You're really good, too." Bobby observed, admiring the way she moved. "Does it come naturally or did you study?"

"A little of both." Kitty replied as she twirled gracefully. "I've always loved to dance, and I took classes with Stevie Hunter for two years."

Bobby's eyebrows shot up. He'd heard of the famous ballerina. Who hadn't? "Why'd you stop? Seems like you might've had a professional career."

"Oh, yeah. I could've changed my code name to Tango." she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Can't be an X-Man and travel with a dance company." Suddenly, Kitty sobered, all traces of humor gone. "Besides, I got messed up pretty bad during the Morlock Massacre."

The smile left Bobby's face and he winced. "Oh, geez. Sorry. I forgot about that. Must've been a pretty rough time."

"It was, but I got over it. Eventually." It wasn't really something Kitty wanted to get into, so she tried to think of a way to change the subject. When she spotted Wolverine dancing with a curvy blonde, she decided it was the perfect opportunity. "Looks like it didn't take Logan long to find a date." She jerked her head in the direction of the feral mutant and his dance partner, seeing Bobby's eyes follow the motion.

"Nope. Not long at all. He's got good taste, too." Bobby noted appreciatively. Then he looked back at Kitty and grinned. "But I still think I ended up with the best date."

Wincing inwardly, Kitty decided it might be time to bite the bullet before Bobby really did get his feelings hurt. Better that she set it straight now before it went any further.

As the current song ended, a slower song took it's place and Bobby automatically pulled her loosely into his arms for a slow dance.

Taking a deep breath, Kitty looked up at him and gathered up her courage. "Bobby, I think we need to talk" She waited until she knew she had his attention before continuing. "I like you a lot. You're a really nice guy, but..."

Bobby put his index finger against her lips effectively cutting her off as he gave her a friendly smile. "...but you don't like me **that **way. Don't worry. I know that. Besides," he nodded toward Peter, who was dancing with Ororo a few feet away. "I get the idea you're already spoken for."

"No," she shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. We haven't been anything even remotely resembling a couple in nearly a decade and, right now, we're barely on speaking terms." 

And it was true. Though Logan, Kurt, and Ororo had all told her Peter asked after her frequently, he hadn't come to see her at all since she'd gotten out of the medlab and, most of the time, he seemed to be making a conscious effort to be wherever she wasn't. She'd barely seen him the last week, except for mealtimes when he diligently avoided sitting anywhere near her. 

She knew it was for the best, but Kitty hadn't thought she'd miss him simply being around as much as she had. 

"That may be, but he hasn't taken his eyes off you all night. Not that I blame him," Bobby wiggled his eyebrows at her comically as she swatted his arm, but then sobered immediately. "Seriously, Kit, I like you. You're interesting and fun...and absolutely gorgeous, but I know you're not interested in me as anything but a friend. I just thought it'd be fun to sort of claim you for tonight."

Kitty seemed to consider his words for a moment, then laughed. "I'm ok with that. Mostly. A friendly date I can deal with. Not that, under different circumstances, I wouldn't be attracted to you, but I have the worst track record on earth when it comes to relationships. And besides," Her gaze automatically sought out Peter and their eyes again met across the dance floor before he quickly looked away. "I think I was taken a long time ago and, even though we'll never be able to really be together, I can't seem to let that go."

This time it was Bobby who nodded, sighing wistfully. "I can definitely relate to that. I feel the same way about Lorna. I've accepted that she loves someone else and she'll never return my feelings, but I'll always love her. There's just no one else that compares for me." He shrugged helplessly. "I guess that's just how it is with first love."

"Sucks, doesn't it?" 

"Absolutely."

***********************************************************************************************************************

"Why don't you go and dance with her?" 

Ororo's softly accented words, tinged with a sigh of mild frustration, startled him back into the present and Peter realized he'd been staring at Kitty as she and Bobby danced. Blushing slightly, he turned his attention back to his partner, finding himself being scrutinized intently by those sometimes disconcerting, ice blue catseyes. 

"I do not imagine she has any desire to dance with me. She seems to be enjoying herself with Bobby." There was a tinge of bitterness, and not a little jealousy, in his statement and Ororo narrowed her gaze, giving him a hard look.

" I know you do not truly believe there is anything between Kitty and Robert. That idea is patently ridiculous....and you cannot avoid her forever, Little Brother." 

Peter's scowl vanished, his lips curving slightly at the knowing look and familiar form of address. Almost from the first, he'd been her little brother. He'd only been fifteen and Storm had taken it upon herself to make sure he didn't do permanent damage to himself out of sheer, youthful foolishness. Those first years, she'd had a full time job looking after him. 

Old habits died hard, he supposed.

"I believe I have done an admirable job of it to this point." he replied ruefully. 

Ororo exhaled heavily, and he could hear the affectionate exasperation in the sound. "Have you even spoken to her at all since Hank released her?"

"No. Katya made it very clear the last time we spoke that she did not desire friendship, nor anything else, from me. I felt it best to leave her alone."

Not so very long ago, he'd been terrified she was going to die, that the last words they would ever speak to one another would be ones of anger. But, she had recovered and, relieved as he had been, he couldn't bring himself to see her, try to talk with her. Her previous rejection still hurt, badly. 

Peter Rasputin was a patient, persistent man, but he wasn't a foolish one. No matter that it was breaking his heart, he would not continue to force his attentions where they were not wanted. 

"I doubt, very seriously, Peter, that she actually meant that. You know she has not been herself lately. Are you going to let her leave for the far side of the earth without even speaking to her again?" 

As they moved slowly across the floor to the soft, haunting refrain of the song currently playing, Ororo laid her head against Peter's shoulder, wracking her brain for some way to get through to these two people who meant so much to her, yet were so infernally stubborn that she sometimes wanted to strangle the both of them. 

It was not like Kitty to be so withdrawn and moody as she had been, and neither was it like Peter to just give up on her so completely. They had both weathered much worse than anything that had occurred lately and managed to remain at least friends. Ororo honestly didn't understand why things were so suddenly falling apart.

"No, I suppose not." he admitted reluctantly. "But I do not know that tonight would be the best time to talk with her."

"You are simply procrastinating." she pointed out, noticing how his gaze kept drifting across the room to rest on the girl he was so pointedly avoiding, his eyes following her movements as if he were mesmerized. And it also didn't escape her notice that Kitty, every so often, would glance his way as well. 

Why on earth couldn't the two of them see what was so plain to everyone else? There was a bond between them that was not going to be broken, and it was more than a bond of friendship or even family. 

"Perhaps." Peter agreed, his attention not really on their conversation any longer, but on the slim, graceful woman with the cascade of dark chestnut curls dancing in another man's arms. 

Right now, he wanted nothing more than to stride across the floor, remove her from Bobby's embrace and take her into his own. And keep her there. She seemed to be enjoying Drake's company far too much for his liking. 

As he watched, she threw her head back, laughing for the first time he knew of in weeks, and it was all Peter could do to tamp down the green eyed monster that appeared out of nowhere, urging him to go over there and lay claim to what was his. But he knew the reaction he would receive for attempting such a thing, and it would not be pleasant. 

Nor would it be the right thing for him to do. Kitty was a woman, not a trophy to be fought over. He'd learned that lesson the hard way. Whatever the outcome, the choice was hers to make. But, deep down inside, where it wasn't so easy to lie to himself, Peter admitted that the choice had been made long ago, and not by her, but by him. And he'd made the wrong one. 

Forcing himself to tear his gaze away from the other couple, Peter looked back to the woman, the friend, in his arms at the moment, thankful that she seemed to have let the matter drop for now. Ororo meant well, but he didn't believe she realized just exactly how much Kitty had changed, either recently or over the last few years. Or how much he had changed, as well.

Storm still saw them as they were years ago, the young, teenage girl with an adolescent crush on the slightly older, shy, Russian farm boy she considered something of a knight in shining armor. And he had wanted to fill that role for her, but he had been too young himself to deal with the very real, very adult, very serious feelings they were developing for each other. 

And, to a nineteen year old boy, the thought of having to wait another three or four years, for the girl he wanted now to be old enough to start a real relationship, had seemed like an eternity. So, he'd just given up on her, on them, tossed what they had away.

But they weren't children anymore and something told him that if they didn't work this out between them soon, they never would.

Once again, his attention was drawn to her, across the darkened dance floor, the revolving lights playing on her hair, bringing out the gold and auburn highlights from the deep, rich brown, her movements fluid, graceful as she allowed her partner to guide her across the floor. 

Perhaps tonight was the time to make one last effort, one final attempt to discover if there was anything left between them, to see if there was any hope at all that those feelings, those dreams, they'd once had could be recaptured. 

If not, well, then it was time to let the Dream end, at least for him. Once and for all. 

***********************************************************************************************************************

To Kitty's surprise, once they got past the initial, awkward issue of romantic expectations and relaxed, she found that she and Bobby actually had a great deal in common. 

They were both only children, had both been thirteen when they joined the X-Men, making them the youngest members of their respective teams, they both had a head for mathematics and science, and they were both sick and tired of the mutant super-hero life. 

She envied him his normal accounting business, his normal life, that he could return to when the crisis of the moment was over, and she wondered what might have happened if they'd started out on the same team, if he'd been with the second group of X-Men, instead of the first. 

But, it hadn't happened that way, and things were as they were. She was still in love with Peter, he was still in love with Lorna Dane, and it certainly didn't look, based on recent events, like her life would ever be anything resembling normal, whether she stayed with the X-Men or not.

She and Bobby shared several more dances before their entire group began swapping partners, which served to improve her mood slightly.

By unspoken agreement, everyone seemed to have decided to put aside the X-Men, missions, being mutants, and everything else that went along with their everyday life and just have a good time tonight. Especially since it would, undoubtedly, be the last time they were all together for quite a while, if ever.

Kitty ended up dancing with Logan next, which she always enjoyed.

What he lacked in skill on the dance floor, he made up for in sheer animal grace and, as always, he and Kitty had a good time together. 

"Pun'kin', I gotta tell ya, that's some outfit ya got on tonight." He remarked, taking in her attire with a smirk. Her bare midriff was sporting, of all things, a belly button ring with some kind of little dangly thing on it and there were wide, gold hoops hanging from her earlobes. She'd even applied heavier makeup than usual for the occasion. "And I'm pretty sure I ain't seen this before." 

Reaching out, he flicked the little bit of jewelry adorning her midriff lightly and Kitty blushed furiously, hiding her face in his shoulder in embarrassment.

"Hey! Stop that." She slapped his hand playfully as a teasing grin spread over his face. "I've had it for a while," she admitted. "But it doesn't exactly go with the costume. This is really the first chance I've had to wear it."

"Did ya happen to catch 'Ro's reaction when she got a look at it?"

"No," She replied slowly, not sure she wanted to know. "Why?"

"Let's just say it caught her by surprise. I'm amazed she hasn't said somethin' to ya by now."

"Dear God, Logan. I'm twenty three years old. I think I can have a belly button ring if I want. Hell, I might even get a tattoo."

At that statement, Logan burst out in hearty laughter. "You be sure an' tell her that, Darlin'. It'll probably give her a stroke."

"At least it's not in my nose."

"Kit, that's just disgustin'." 

They shared several dances before they changed again and, this time, she ended up with Kurt. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but, finally, the German mutant stopped in the middle of the dance floor and took her by the hand.

"Ach, this is ridiculous. Katzchen, I apologize for acting like an immature oaf. You are one of my dearest friends and I refuse to feel awkward around you any longer."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kitty let him spin her back into his arms and she hugged him tightly for a moment. "Thank God. I was beginning to think we were going to be dancing around each other forever." She grinned up at him. Even after all this time, she was still thrown off by the too normal looking, nondescript face provided by the image inducer instead of her blue furred, yellow eyed, fuzzy elf. "No pun intended."

"Now that we have that settled, shall we show the rest of these peasants how it's done?" he asked with a rakish grin.

Laughing, Kitty let him twirl her around the floor, thrilled that they seemed to be getting back on an even keel. Kurt was a very good dancer and they enjoyed showing off a bit through the next couple of songs. As the last one ended, they received a smattering of applause for their efforts.

Kitty managed to last through a few more songs, even dancing with Neal and Bishop, before pleading temporary exhaustion and making a run for the table. 

It hadn't escaped her notice, during the course of the evening, that Peter had kept as far away from her as he possibly could and still remain in the same building, and she felt some of her good humor abruptly deflate. She couldn't help but be a little hurt that he hadn't even so much as asked her to dance while everybody else was switching around and mingling. After all, she'd even danced with **Neal**, for God's sake.

As she moved through the crowd on the dance floor, Bobby grabbed her arm as she went by. 

"Hey, where're you going?"

"I want to sit down and rest for a few minutes." Kitty replied tiredly, rubbing at her left temple, which had recently developed a low, dull, throbbing ache. "I'm beat."

"Awww. And here I was hoping to get my partner back. I've missed you. Besides, Rogue's been stepping on my feet."

A few feet away, the aforementioned Southern woman, who was currently dancing with Bishop, glared at him.

"Ah **did not** step on your feet. It was your imagination." she declared, but Bobby just rolled his eyes, turning to Kitty and giving her his best pleading look. 

"Don't leave me out here all alone too long, ok? I think they're gonna make me dance with Logan next." As he affected a somewhat horrified look, all Kitty could manage was a weak smile and Bobby's attitude suddenly turned serious, his teasing grin replace by concern as he looked her over carefully. "You ok, Kit?"

"You know, lately, I think somebody asks me that question at least five or six times a day." she mused, patting him on the arm as she turned back toward their table. "Just a slight headache. I'll be fine." 

"You sure? If you want, I'll take you home." When she automatically started to protest, he added, "It's not a problem. I'd be glad to."

"No. Give me a few minutes to rest and recover and I'll be good as new." she promised, stretching up to give him a friendly peck on the cheek. 

As Kitty walked off, neither she nor Bobby noticed Peter standing against one wall, shoulders slumped, as he watched the two of them, what little hope he'd had left slowly crumbling to so much dust.

***********************************************************************************************************************

She'd barely sat down when Betsy arrived to drag her back out onto the floor with the rest of the girls to teach them all some new dance she'd learned. Under protest, she let the English woman pull her away, trying to ignore what she knew was the beginnings of a raging migraine.

She immediately regretted giving in.

By the time the song was half way over, Kitty was blushing furiously and praying to sink into the floor. If there hadn't been so many people around to see, it might have been an actual option for her. She had no idea where Betsy had learned this so-called dance, but she was almost positive there were several states where it would be illegal. 

The five women, Kitty still wasn't sure how Betsy had talked Tessa into joining in, were doing a pretty good imitation of a very suggestive bump and grind to "Lady Marmalade" and she was hoping that they weren't going to go into an actual striptease before it was over. She also wondered exactly how much the other four women might have had to drink prior to this impromptu floor show.

Though she could shake and shimmy with the best of them, it wasn't something she normally did in public, or anywhere else, and her mind was working frantically, trying to come up with an inconspicuous way to exit the dance floor as soon as possible.

They had attracted quite a crowd of admirers, which only seemed to egg Betsy and Ororo on. Before long, they were taking turns improvising dance moves for the others to follow and things just deteriorated into pure smut from there. After a while, Kitty began to feel like she was in a Beyonce video.

It got even worse when Kurt and Neal worked up the nerve to jump in. Kurt was dancing with Ororo and Neal, of course, was dancing with Betsy, doing things on the dance floor that had her mouth dropping open. She knew it was all in fun, but she was so embarrassed she could barely stand to watch as her female friends shimmied and slithered all over her male friends.

When Bobby caught her eye, raising his eyebrows in silent question, Kitty just shook her head vigorously and shoved him toward Rogue while she fled the scene. No matter how close they were as friends, there was no way she was dancing with anyone like that. At least, not in front of the rest of the world. She'd die of mortification and would never be able to look any of them in the face again.

Kitty was beginning to believe she had way too many inhibitions to be in the X-Men, judging by what she was seeing now.

It was like watching a train wreck, horrible, yet so intriguing that you couldn't look away. She was pretty sure some of those images would be burned into her brain for all time. 

She noticed, with some satisfaction, that Logan seemed to feel the same way as Kitty watched him leave the others in favor of a dark corner on the other side of the room. 

Heading in the general direction of their table, she briefly considered joining him to hide in the shadows, her eyes focused on the floor instead of where she was going, and was suddenly brought up short as she bumped into what, at first, she thought was a wall. Instead, it turned out to be Peter.

Kitty looked up, prepared to apologize to whoever she'd crashed into when she found herself staring up into a very familiar set of deep blue eyes. 

All the air seemed to rush out of her lungs, and she had to take a deep breath before she could speak again.

"Sorry. I wasn't paying attention." 

When he didn't reply, just kept watching her with an odd, pensive expression, Kitty started to turn away, going toward their table, as she'd originally intended. Before she could take more than a couple of steps, his hand wrapped loosely around her wrist, gently halting her progress. 

She turned back toward him, her eyes questioning as he tugged her closer. "Did you want something, Peter?" Kitty tried not to snap it out with as much impatience as she felt, but didn't quite succeed in keeping the sharp edge completely out of her voice.

"How are you, Katya?" His voice was soft, carrying an odd note that she couldn't readily identify.

"I'm ok." She looked him full in the face, the hurt and anger that had been building up the entire week, as he went about pretending she didn't exist, finally getting the better of her. "But, then, if you really gave a damn, you could have asked me that question any time in the last week." 

Again, she turned to go, but he wouldn't release his hold on her wrist, even as she tried to tug it free of his grip.

"You are the one who said you did not want my friendship, or my company. I was only respecting your wishes." It was said just as softly as before, without heat, indeed without any outward emotion at all and that just irritated her further. 

She hated it when he retreated behind that cold, Russian stoicism, shutting everyone and everything out. The first time Kitty had ever been on the receiving end of that attitude was just before he'd broken things off with her. And it had been the same attitude she got a short time later, as he sat and calmly told her he didn't love her anymore.

It brought back enough unresolved pain and hurt-filled memories to set her blood on instant boil. 

Glaring up at him, she planted her feet, unconsciously preparing for a fight. "That's right. I did. And, since you've done such a wonderful job of 'respecting my wishes' all week, why ruin your perfect record. Now, are you going to let me go, or do I have to phase myself free and kick your ass right here in front of everyone? 'Cause, frankly, I'm in just about the right mood for a fight." 

"I have no intention of fighting with you." He could see the anger flaring brightly in her wide, expressive eyes and knew he was walking dangerously close to the edge with her right now. She had a volatile temper at the best of times and, if he pushed her too much, she would make a scene, regardless of where they were.

"Then let me go." she hissed through clenched teeth. But, to her surprise, instead of releasing her, he pulled her even closer, turning loose of her wrist only to put his arms around her.

"I'm sorry." he whispered. "I did not mean to upset you. I only wanted to talk to you for a moment." He held her gaze, letting her see all the hurt in his own eyes, holding nothing back from her this time.

Kitty tried to hold onto her anger, tried not to care that she was so close to him, tried to ignore the wounded look in his eyes, the slight note of pleading that had crept into his voice, but she couldn't do it. Where he was concerned, every defense she'd ever developed was useless. He could walk right through them as if they weren't there. She had nothing left to fight him with.

Laying her forehead against his chest, she closed her eyes, her head aching, her hands clenching into fists at her side as she fought the urge to hold on to him, all her fire and anger gone in less than an instant, leaving her empty, and drained, and vulnerable.

"Please..." she moaned weakly. "don't do this to me. Not now."

For what may have been a few seconds, or half the night, Kitty really didn't know or care, they stood there, his arms draped loosely around her as she slowly relaxed against him.

"I hate it when you do that." she finally said, so quietly he almost didn't hear her over the music and conversation going on around them. 

"Do what?" he asked, a little puzzled, but, knowing by her tone, by the way her body had gone from ramrod stiff to pliant against him, that the storm had passed. At least for now.

"Close yourself off, put up those walls and just...shut down. I've never known how to deal with you when you're like that."

"Just as I do not know how to deal with you when you become so angry. You explode, like a fireball." he returned, pulling back just enough to study her face, sighing heavily. "What are we going to do, Kitty?"

Looking up into his eyes, a million thoughts ran through her head in a second, but she rejected them all. 

In her mind, there was one image that dominated all the others, that of the Soulsword, and, with it, the damage, the destruction, it had wrought in the past, and would wreak in the future, if she gave it the chance. And she knew there could only be one answer, she just couldn't bring herself to say it. Not yet.

So she closed her eyes and shook her head instead, unable to look at his face anymore. "I don't know, Peter. I just don't know."

Around them, the lights dimmed further and the tempo of the music changed, going from a hard rock beat to a softer, slower melody driven by piano and the soft strains of an electric guitar, accompanied by the soft t tap of drums, but Kitty barely registered any of it. All her energy was going into maintaining some level of composure. 

Within her, a battle was raging and the part of her that fought for her own self-preservation was loosing. Opening herself to him would destroy her, just as surely as the Soulsword would, but her resistance had been utterly destroyed the moment his fingers first connected with her skin.

"Will you dance with me, Katya?" The soft bass rumble of his voice carried to her over the surrounding, constant background noise and she could only nod, incapable of speech, knowing if she tried to talk, everything, all her thoughts, all her feelings, all her hopes and fears, would just come rushing out and she wouldn't be able to stop it.

Taking her left hand in his right, he laced his fingers tightly with hers, pulling her close as his other hand skimmed her bare waist, coming to rest on the small of her back, the light caress sending shivers along her spine, his touch warm and gentle on her skin. And, just that quickly, she was his, as she always had been, would always be.

They were standing to one side of the dance floor, away from most of the other couples on the floor, and they didn't bother joining the main group, preferring to stay where they were as they swayed in time to the music.

As she gave in to her heart, laid her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and lost herself in what, she knew, would be their last dance together, Kitty finally registered, in some small part of her addled, confused brain, the song that was playing. And knew that the Fates were, indeed, evil and cruel Gods who delighted in the suffering of their charges here on earth.

_Sleep has left me alone, _

_To carry the weight of unraveling where we went wrong._

_It's all I can do to hang on,_

_To keep me from falling into old familiar shoes._

It was so absurdly appropriate that she would have laughed, if she hadn't known it would come out sounding more than a little hysterical, if wouldn't result in her completely and totally breaking down beyond all hope of recovery. There was a surreal moment when she felt like a character in in one of those sappy, Hollywood tear jerkers that she hated so much, living out her life to a pre-recorded soundtrack.

_How stupid could I be?_

_A simpleton could see,_

_That you're no good for me, _

_But you're the only one I see._

She wondered if Peter had noticed, but decided it didn't matter. The whole universe was trying to tell her what a fool she was, that she was wasting her life wanting him, the one man in all the world that she couldn't have. But still she clung to him, unwilling to give up these final moments, all that was left of the only life she'd ever really wanted. It might be stupid, but it was all she had.

_Love has made me a fool,_

_Set me on fire and watched as I floundered,_

_Unable to speak,_

_Except to cry out and wait for your answer._

_You leave me here, burning,_

_In this desert without you._

When this dance was over, so would they be, once and for all. Forever and ever. Amen. No turning back, no reconciliation. No hope. Just the rest of her life, stretching before her, a long, black, ribbon of deserted road stretching through a barren land.

She would leave tonight. She knew it now. Had, in reality, known it all along, but just hadn't been willing to admit it to herself. The time was far past for them both to move on. No matter how much it hurt, he wasn't hers, hadn't ever really been hers, whatever she told herself. It had only been the simple, idiotic, daydreams of a little girl. The time had come for the little girl to finally grow up.

_Everything changes,_

_Everything falls apart,_

_I can't stand to feel myself loosing control,_

_In the deep of my weakness, I know._

_That you're no good for me._

_But you're the only one I see._

Deep inside, her heart broke and bled, and she wanted only to stay just as they were, for this song, this dance, to never end. Because, when it did, she would finally lay to rest the one, final dream she'd clung to for the last ten years. The dream she'd held since the first time she'd laid eyes on Piotr Nikolievitch Rasputin, ten years ago in her parents living room, when a thirteen year old girl had given her heart away and never really gotten it back.

Charles Xavier had his grand Dream and Kitty had desperately held onto her much simpler one, even as she fought and bled for his. And dreams died hard.

Out of sheer necessity, she leaned into him, letting him hold her up, knowing that, if she didn't, she'd collapse in a heap onto the floor. His arm tightened around her, molding her body against his, fitting them together perfectly and she found herself wishing that she could have had one night with him. Just one night.

But it was too late, now. It would only complicate things more, make it that much harder for her walk away, to close that door firmly behind her and, so, she forced the thought from her mind. For the first time in her life, Kitty wished that, just once, with this man, she'd followed her heart and her hormones, instead of her head. 

As the music slowly died around them, they stopped moving, but stayed as they were, unwilling to let go. Kitty gently disentangled her hand hand from his, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tightly as he did the same. 

When Peter finally tilted her chin up, dark, cobalt blue meeting rich, golden brown, she saw the knowledge in his eyes, just as she knew he must see it in hers. Bracing herself, fighting back the flood of tears burning behind her eyes, she waited.

Looking down into her upturned face, Peter felt as if he was being ripped in two and the pain was almost more than he could bear. 

He loved her more than he would ever be able to put into words, but he had waited too long. Things had gone too far and there was no way to go back, to put things right. She couldn't be his again. They would never be lovers and they couldn't be friends. It was over, ended for good, here in this crowded, noisy place. Now they had to put it to rest. 

"There is no way to make things right between us again...is there?" 

It wasn't really a question and they both knew it, but she shook her head anyway, the first tear slipping from the corner of her eye to slide slowly down her cheek.

"No....I'm sorry."

Considering that she was shattering into a million pieces inside, Kitty felt that her voice came out amazingly steady, with only the slightest tremor, when what she really wanted to do was scream until she couldn't scream any more.

"So am I." 

Taking her face in his large hands, he leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips, softly at first, then more firmly, his lips warm and soft against her own, sending an electric jolt through her body that she knew he had to feel as well. God, she'd completely forgotten how kissing him had always made her feel, breathless, pliant, boneless. No other man had ever made her feel this way and she knew no other ever would.

For both of them, it ended much too soon. Reluctantly, he pulled away, placing a kiss on her forehead, murmuring to her softly in Russian, words that had her dropping her face into her hands as the tears came faster, her breath hitching raggedly as she tried to regain control.

When she looked up again, all she saw was the door closing behind him.

***********************************************************************************************************************

**A/N:** The song, of which I used parts, is Sarah McLachlan's Stupid. I am not really a fan of using songs in my writing, but as I was in the middle of writing the scene it's in, the video came on VH1 and, since it seemed to fit so perfectly, I took it as a sign and stuck it in there. If it annoys anyone, sorry.

**To My Reviewers: You guys are the BEST!**

**Evanescence kicks ass**: Thanks so much! Glad you liked the last chapter, but frankly, I am much happier with this one and the two to follow. They will all be heavily Peter/Kitty. I tried to fit it all into one chapter, but it was so huge, I'm having to break it down. Look for major sappy, syrupy, at least slightly, if not majorly, smutty, scene in chapter 11.

**T.A. Pixiestix**: Hi! Yes, the ff.net breakdown nearly gave me one, too. Thanks so much for your review! I'm glad it's still making sense, even if you haven't been immersed in the comics for the last 30 years or so. I know there are a lot of Evo and Movie fans out there, and, being a fan of those too, I'm trying to make it understandable for everyone. So let me know if I zone out and miss something. And don't even get me started on how Marvel killed off Peter with that @#$#?! Legacy virus. It went so beyond lame. They sent all the other characters outside to play basketball while he basically killed himself. That **will not **happen here. Chapter 10, which I hope to get up tomorrow, is my own personal view on what should have happened in that issue.

So, tune in next time as we deal with the cure for Legacy and things get very, very dramatic and even more angsty. Writers live for reviews.


	10. The Cure, Redoux

**Disclaimer: **You really don't believe I own these guys, do you? Surely not. Definitely not making any money off of this.

**Warning: **This chapter is going to deal with what, I guess, you'd call something of an attempted suicide. Definitely involves dark thoughts and a rather tense situation. If that kind of thing bothers you, don't read this. Nothing graphic, though. Some rough language, but if a friend trying to kill themselves isn't a good reason for that, I don't know what is.

Forget continuity. Just put it out of your head. You'll feel much better. This veers off of the regular story line after X-Men #109 and this is my own, personal, opinion of how Uncanny X-Men #390 should have gone. I just have this feeling that, if Kitty had been around when this all happened, she wouldn't have gone outside to play basketball, like everyone else did, while Peter killed himself. I mean, really. Who didn't see that coming as soon as Hank said the cure would kill the host, just like the original virus when it was release?

Done ranting now. On with the story.

***********************************************************************************************************************

**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 10 – The Cure, Redoux**

It all hit her in a rush and she stumbled, not even aware of the rough hands that reached out to steady her so that she wouldn't fall. Neither did she notice the crowd of friends gathered around her, who'd stopped what they were doing as soon as they'd realized the situation and gotten to her just in time to witness the final scene between her and Peter. 

Kitty never saw Kurt, Ororo, Logan, and Rogue exchanged pained, concerned looks, hit with a sickening sense of deja vu as they watched a scene from nearly a decade before play itself out again tonight. 

In fact, she saw very little, her eyes blurred with the tears running down her face as she turned and dashed toward the ladies room, phasing herself through everyone and everything in her way, no caring who saw. All she knew was that she had to get there before she completely fell apart. 

Stunned, her friends could only watch her go, stark incomprehension or grave concern written on their faces. 

Bobby called out to her, even as Rogue and Ororo started to follow after her, but Kitty didn't hear them, didn't want to hear them. She just wanted to get away.

Phasing through the restroom door, she retained the presence of mind to turn the lock, ensuring that she wouldn't be disturbed, unless they decided to blow the door off it's hinges or slice it into firewood, which she doubted. 

Unable to fight her roiling emotions any longer, Kitty leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes against the overwhelming flood of tears and emotions that she could no longer hold in check.

The cool tile sent goose bumps skittering along her back, where it touched bare skin, and she latched onto the sensation as a drowning woman latches onto a piece of flotsam to keep from being dragged into the black, bottomless sea. Her legs finally gave out, refusing to support her any longer, and she slid bonelessly to the floor in something akin to slow motion. 

Drawing her knees up to her chest, she dropped her head and gave in to the wracking, tearing sobs that had been trying to escape while she was still out on the dance floor, her long hair falling around her in a curtain as her slim body shook with the force of her sorrow.

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Outside the ladies room, nine mutants of various powers, beings who'd saved the world countless times and the universe at least twice, stood, staring helplessly at the locked restroom door, unsure what to do next. 

"Shouldn't somebody go in there, see if she's ok?" Bobby watched the door intently, as if he expected it to perform some trick or speak up and tell them all what was going on inside. 

"And just how would you suggest we do that, Robert, aside from striking the door with lightning, blowing it apart with concussive force, or carving it into small pieces? All of which would undoubtedly draw even more attention to us than we already have." 

It came out much more curt and cutting than Ororo had meant it to be, but she wasn't in the mood to coddle anyone right now. Except for Kitty and she couldn't get to her, which only increased her worry induced irritation.

"Couldn't you pick the lock, Ororo?" Betsy asked, knowing that their team leader had some considerable skill in such things.

"Or, I could find the manager and see if he has a key." Kurt offered.

"Or, ya could all just leave her the hell alone and let her come out when she's ready." Logan threw in before any more suggestions could be offered up. 

All eyes turned to where he stood, leaning against one wall just inside the little alcove that led to the clubs two restrooms. 

"We are simply concerned about her, Logan." Ororo glared at him, a look that would have quelled any further protest immediately if it had been anyone other than Wolverine. Logan, however, just shrugged it off, not particularly impressed with the Weather Goddesses little fits of temper. 

"She locked the door for a reason, 'Ro. I don't think she's gonna slit her wrists, if that's what yer worried about."

"I did not suppose that she would." Ororo returned, somewhat heatedly. "But I remember the state she was in the last time this happened..."

Neal turned to Betsy, giving her a quizzical look. "This happens a lot with those two?"

Betsy pinned him with her best, upper class English, withering glare, not in the mood for stupid questions. She knew, as perhaps no one else could, how upset Kitty had to be. "Neal.... do shut up."

Ignoring the by play between his other two team mates, Logan shook his head at his long-time friend in exasperation. "Fer Christ's sake, she was fourteen years old then. Somehow, I don't think she'll have quite the same reaction this time."

"But you cannot deny she was very upset, mein freund." Kurt reverted, as he usually did whenever there was a conflict, to his habitual role as peacemaker and referee. "We only want to assure ourselves that she is all right."

"Damn, for such a smart group, y'all are pretty dense." From beside Logan, Rogue finally spoke up, bristling at the others, tired of their knee-jerk reaction of interfering in everything that happened to any other member of the team because they thought they could make it all better. Whether the member in question wanted their help or not. The auburn haired mutant had first hand experience in how truly irritating that could be.

"Of course she ain't all right. Did she **look** all right to you?" Her blazing green eyes swept over each of her friends, daring anyone to contradict her. "But she's a big girl. And she don't need us to hold her hand. She'll come out when she's ready and she'll talk to us when she's ready. Hell, Petey looked just as bad as she did, in case y'all didn't notice, but I don't see none of you runnin' after **him**."

"Perhaps someone should go back to the mansion and check on Peter." Betsy suggested a little guiltily. "Rogue's right. He looked just as shaken as Kitty."

"If yer all smart, ya'll just leave 'em both alone ta sort this out in their own way. If they want our help, they'll ask for it. This is somethin' that we've all seen builidin' up fer a while. They're both grown-ups. They can deal with their problems just like we all deal with ours." He sent a pointed glance Ororo's way, knowing her propensity to try to talk and advise Kitty to death any time the young woman encountered a problem. "Ever'body don't need, or want, the rest of the world playin' counselor with their personal problems." 

That said, Logan sauntered off, returning to their table and ordering another round of drinks. With a last look at the faces around her, Rogue turned to follow him. The others looked around at one another, shrugged, and did the same. All except for Ororo, who stationed herself by the door, waiting for Kitty. 

_***********************************************************************************************************************_

She'd cried herself out, finally. All the tears were gone, at least for the moment. There would be more later, and for a long time to come, but there wasn't anything she could do about that now. Plenty of time to worry about it down the road, her whole life, in fact.

Rubbing gingerly at her red, swollen eyes, Kitty managed to pick herself up off the bathroom floor to lean against the cold tile wall again. Maybe her legs would hold this time, but it really didn't matter to her. She could fall apart here just as easily as anywhere else.

Her eyes hurt, her throat hurt, there was a migraine pounding behind her skull, that damned song was stuck in her head, playing itself over and over again, mocking her, laughing at her. Her nose was clogged up and she imagined her face resembled something akin to a Halloween mask by this point. One of the main reasons she hated wearing any more than very minimal makeup. If you started crying, your face looked like it was melting off.

Right now, all she wanted to do was go home. There was just one problem. She had to leave this room to do that.

She knew they were out there, waiting, just on the other side of the door, with all of their friendship and good intentions. They wanted to pet her, coddle her, make her feel better. They just didn't understand that she didn't want any of that. It wouldn't help and, at this point, it would just irritate her. 

Taking several deep, steadying breaths, she pushed herself off the wall and walked to the door. Couldn't stay in here forever. Had to go out there sometime. No time like the present.

Besides, she wanted to get to the mansion, pack her few remaining things, and get out the door, preferably before anyone was the wiser. If she went now, did it while she was still numb and hollow, it would be so much easier. She might actually be able to get through it without collapsing into hysterics.

She reached out, unlocking the door, but not bothering to open it. With a thought, she walked through it, passing the molecules of her own body through those of the wood. Such a little thing. Such a quiet, unassuming power. Yet it had cost her more in her life than could ever be regained.

As she'd thought, Ororo was waiting for her on the other side of the door, but at least she was alone.

"Kitty..." The platinum-haired mutant held out her hand to Kitty, taking in the puffy eyes, the somewhat shell shocked expression, wanting to embrace her, but the younger woman simply passed right through her as if she weren't there. 

"Not now, Ororo. I appreciate the concern...but not now. I can't deal with it."

Not bothering to wait for a reply, Kitty made a bee line for the dance floor, where Logan was currently dancing with Rogue. 

They both stopped as she neared, waiting for her to reach them. When she did, she didn't bother to mince words.

"Logan, I know it's a lot to ask, but can I borrow your bike? I really want to get home and lie down for a while."

The feral mutant studied her for a moment, seeing the evidence of her tears, the pained expression in her eyes, the way her hands kept going to her head, massaging her temples. She'd been through hell tonight. That much was evident, but he wouldn't ask any questions right now. There'd be time for that later, when her head was in a better place. He knew very well what it was to want some privacy when your world suddenly went to shit.

Wordlessly, he pulled the keys from his jeans pocket, tossing them to her.

"Want me to drive ya?" he asked solicitously, though he knew what her answer would be, even before she shook her head. Outwardly, she appeared calm, almost detached, but his senses told him that was just a mask she was wearing. Her scent held a jumbled mix of emotions and he knew that, inside, was a swirling, confused mass that she needed time to sort out.

"No. Thanks, but no thanks. I need a little time by myself, where it's quiet."

"No problem. Got yer phone, in case ya run inta trouble?"

"Yeah." Impulsively, she leaned in and hugged him tight, whispering very quieltly in his ear. "Thanks, Logan. I love you. I hope you know that."

He returned her hug fiercely, whispering back to her, voice so gruff and low that only she would hear. "Love ya, too, Darlin'. Ya know where ta find me if ya need me."

Without another word, she stepped away and made for the door, feeling his eyes on her the whole way, knowing he was worrying about her, but appreciating the fact that he trusted her to be enough of an adult to ask for help if, and when, she needed it.

The cold night air slapped her in the face, clearing her head marginally and she gave up a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn't felt like drinking anything tonight. The coming morning would be bad enough without having to deal with a hangover on top of everything else. 

Walking quickly through the parking lot, Kitty found Logan's big, black Road King Classic with ease, the moonlight glinting off the chrome making it glow like a star. She straddled the big bike, picking up the helmet hanging on the handle bars and putting it on, fastening the strap under her chin to secure it. 

Reaching into the right hand saddle bag, she pulled out a set of driving gloves, ones that Logan kept there especially for her, and slipped them on, the leather butter soft, fitting her almost as close as her own skin. She was the only other person he would let on the huge Harley. He'd taught her to ride the monster before she'd been old enough to even drive a car and she held a motorcycle license as well as her regular drivers license, for which she was extremely thankful at the moment.

With a flick of her wrist, she turned the key in the ignition and the beast literally roared to life, settling into a rumbling idle as she checked her gauges and found her balance point. The motorcycle was much heavier than it looked and she'd had to learn to balance it properly to keep it from tipping over when she stopped or started off, but she handled it now with no problems. Kitty could have driven it in her sleep if she'd had to.

Maneuvering it into a fully upright position, she hit the kickstand with her foot, disengaging it so that it flipped up and out of the way. When it was clear, she gunned the engine. With a loud, bass rumble of chrome pipes that set the windows in the club rattling, Kitty was off and gone, the wind whipping her long hair out behind her as she pushed the big machine as fast as she dared along the dark, open road. 

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He walked for a while, trying to clear his head, ending up on the little bluff just above the lake, looking out at the lights across the water. Almost ten years ago, he'd come to this same spot, but not alone. 

If he closed his eyes, let his mind drift back to that day that seemed like yesterday, or a lifetime ago, he could see it so clearly, the sunset over the water, turning the lake to fire, the clouds overhead to puffs of lavender, rose, and russet. He could smell the new grass of that clear, early spring evening, hear the faint lap of the waves at the base of the bluff.

And he could hear the ghosts of the children they'd been then, could hear her soft, clear voice as she sat beside him, watching him, understanding that something wasn't right, but not knowing what.

_Gee, you and the X-Men got kidnapped to the far side of the universe...and you didn't take me along. I'm hurt...Anything interesting happen out there?_

_I met someone else. We fell in love....She died in my arms, Kitty. She gave her life for mine._

_I'm sorry for your loss, Peter. She must have meant the world to you._

_As much as you once did._

_"Once"?_

_I cannot deny what I felt...and still feel. _

_I understand, Peter. You pick up the pieces, start over again._

_This is very hard for me._

_It's easy for me?!_

_Kitty...!_

_Why won't you call me "Katya" anymore, Peter? Have I changed?_

_I have. My feelings have. I care for you deeply, Kitty...but the love I felt, the commitment...is no longer there. _

The echo of those long ago words came back to him now, carried by the soft night wind, pointing out to him how shallow, how inconsiderate and unfeeling he'd been to her that day. He'd simply blurted it all out, blunt and too the point, not caring how badly he was hurting her, caring only about his own perceived loss. 

For a woman he'd known only a few days, a woman he hadn't even been able to communicate with, for what he'd thought was love, but was now only a pale reflection of memory, he'd cut Katherine Pryde from his heart. By the time he'd realized what a mistake that had been, it was far too late to repair the damage. 

Until tonight, he'd held out some hope that he and Kitty might yet find their way to one another again, but Peter had looked into her eyes, really looked, and seen what he'd been trying to deny all this time. 

Somewhere along the line, she'd outgrown him, taken his memory, the feelings she'd had for him, and locked them away, like mementos of a time remembered fondly, but not necessarily one she'd want to revisit. 

Whatever changes she was going through, whatever demons she was battling, she didn't need, or want his help, or him. 

She was strong, had always been strong. Whatever challenge she was facing, Kitty could, and would, beat it. 

They'd all scoffed at Logan when he'd taken her on to train, telling them that, inside, she was like him and that instinct, that attitude, needed to be channeled properly. Kitty had only been a little over thirteen years old and they'd thought he'd lost his mind. She was just a little girl with a temper.

But he'd been right. Perhaps more right than even he'd known. Kitty was so like Logan at times that she could have been his own child. She was so like the Wolverine that it was frightening. He'd seen it in her tonight, in the quick flare of rage, the quiet menace as she automatically took up a fighting stance.

Whatever came, Kitty would be fine. She would go and make a life for herself. She didn't need a protector anymore, no longer had a need, nor a desire, for a knight in shining armor. 

Peter looked out across the water, to the sparkling lights of the city, to the rippling reflection of the moon and stars hanging high overhead, and knew that his time as one of the X-Men was done. He'd done all he could for Charles Xavier's Dream.

But out there tonight, there were still people who needed help, people who were suffering, as Illyana had suffered, people who were dying, as she had died. 

Perhaps there was one last thing he could do for those of his kind, for The Dream. 

For mutants and non-mutants to ever be able to live together in peace, mutants would have to **live**.

Standing, he turned his back on the bluff, on the ghosts of the fourteen year old girl and the nineteen year old boy that haunted this place, and turned toward the mansion, where the lights from the medlab still burned, like beacons in the night.

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Kitty steered the chrome and steel monster into the underground garage, pulling into it's designated spot and switching off as she lowered the kickstand. She pulled the keys from the ignition with one hand as her other unfastened the helmet and slipped it off, shaking out her hair as she did so. 

The ride home had helped clear her mind a little, but her head still throbbed, and that damned song was stuck on replay in her head and just would not go away. 

Hanging the helmet on one handlebar and stashing the gloves back in the saddlebag, she slowly made her way to the elevator that would take her up to the main levels. 

Normally, she would have taken the stairs, but she just didn't think her head could take it tonight. All that jogging up and down would only make it worse and the last thing she wanted to cap off this lovely evening was a migraine so bad that it made her physically ill. That had happened once or twice and it was definitely not an experience she had any desire to repeat. Especially not tonight.

She stepped onto the elevator as soon as the doors slid open, pushing the button that would take her near the medlab. As much as she really didn't want to have to deal with anyone else at the moment, Kitty was hoping Hank or Cecelia could give her something to knock out this headache before it became a major issue. Time was ticking away as it was and she didn't want to be hampered any more than absolutely necessary.

Her mind turned to Peter and she briefly wondered if he'd come straight home or if he was still out somewhere, wandering around, trying to put things into perspective, as she'd been. 

In many ways, she hoped he wasn't here yet. It was doubtful that he'd have any desire to see her after the nights festivities, but she'd just rather not chance running into him unexpectedly all the same. She wasn't up to dealing with him again. Not tonight. 

Again, the doors slid open to admit her to the hall just off the medlab wing and she turned down the left-hand corridor, her mind a million miles away, even as her body put itself on auto pilot and carried her in the direction she wanted to go.

So, what was it that suddenly put her on alert halfway down the hall? Kitty would probably never be able to say for sure. 

Maybe it was the voices, some tonal quality that didn't sound quite right. It wouldn't have been what they were saying. She was too far away to make out any specific words and she didn't have Logan's enhanced hearing. Or, maybe, it was just some sixth sense of her own, that flash of intuition that she occasionally received when something was terribly, horribly, wrong with someone she was close to.

In any case, Kitty found herself stopped dead still in the middle of the hallway, every nerve in her body on edge, her ears straining to make out the voices coming from the door near the end of the hall. 

She recognized Cecelia's authoritative, no nonsense tone instantly, but something about it just wasn't right. It was strained, tense, with a undertone that was almost...cajoling, pleading. Very un-Cecelia like. 

Quiet as a shadow, she began moving, making absolutely no sound, phasing on instinct honed in years of fending off surprise attacks, at all hours of the day and night, by all manner of foes from aliens, to terrorists, to demonic, animated stuffed toys.

Then a male voice spoke up and she recognized it as Peter. But instead of relaxing, or even turning around and leaving to avoid another confrontation, she tensed even more. Something was definitely not right. His tone held a...wrongness. That was the only word she could think of to describe it and Kitty was hit with a sudden sense of urgency. 

Moving as quickly as she dared while still unaware of the nature of the situation she was about to enter, she stopped just this side of the medlab door, flattening herself against the wall and listening. 

"I let her down." 

It was Peter's voice again and, again, there was just that feeling of wrongness. Something in his tone, in the way he said it.

"Peter, you heard what Hank said. The Legacy virus kills at random. There was **nothing **you could have done to save her." 

That was Cecelia, again with that strange tone to her voice and, suddenly, Kitty placed it. She'd heard the police use that very same tone, that cadence of voice, when talking down jumpers, potential suicides. 

Every hair on her head felt as if it were standing on end and, for a a moment, she was torn by indecision, the realization of what was occurring overloading her already taxed mental capacity.

"Not from the disease, no. But she should never have been here. Not in the states. I should have sent her home, to Russia. She might have been safe there. But I let her stay...I think, in part, because I was lonely."

Kitty stayed put, taking the chance that Cecelia would keep him talking long enough for her to get a fix on their voices, to map out in her head where they were in the room and in relation to one another. She wasn't afraid of Peter hurting Dr. Reyes, but she was terrified of what he was planning to do to himself and she would fight him to keep it from happening. To her last breath, if necessary.

"Peter, sacrificing yourself isn't going to even the score. Nothing you can do is going to bring her back. I'm a doctor. I'm not going to stand by and let you throw your life away."

Ok, she had a fairly certain fix on Cecelia. Somewhere between the door and the storage refrigerator and Kitty would bet on closer to the refrigerator. Which meant she was probably fairly close to Peter, considering that the Legacy cure sample was stored in that refrigeration unit. 

Dr. Reyes was hoping to stop him. Physically. Kitty knew she wasn't capable of that. She was a medical doctor, a trauma specialist. Cecelia hadn't had the training necessary to allow her to overpower someone of Peter's size and strength.

"I understand that."

Peter again, and this time Kitty could put him fairly close to where ever Ceclia was, just as she'd thought. If she was going to take her best guess, she'd say between the doctor and the cold storage unit, which made what she had to do a little more difficult, but not impossible.

Then, Peter was speaking again, his voice calm, reasonable and all together too emotionless for her taste. He'd closed himself off behind that wall again.

"But your Bio-Forcefield is triggered in response to kinetic energy. This gas will make it through that field."

**_Oh, shit. Goddamn it all to hell. Bastard. I am going to take that damn can of anesthetic and shove it up his ass!_**

She knew exactly what he was talking about, what he was probably holding up right this minute, preparing to knock Cecelia out long enough to accomplish what he had in mind.

Suddenly, Kitty was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. What the hell did he think he was doing? When she got her hands on him, and she would get her hands on him, she was going to kick his ass seven ways into next week. All the organic metal armor in the world would not save him from what she was going to do to him. She'd be damned if she was burying another friend.

Using the anger, she let it well up, push everything else aside, let the adrenaline rush wash over her, fuel her, drive her. 

_**No fear, no time to think about what you're going to do, no hesitation. Just do it.**_

Knowing she had only seconds to act, Kitty dropped to the floor in a crouch and leapt through the wall of the medlab, hitting the floor and tucking into a roll in a move that would have made an Olympic gymnast proud. It brought her up directly behind Cecelia, who she immediately grabbed and shoved behind her, putting herself between Peter and the doctor. 

"Peter, so help me, if you don't put that can down, you will live just long enough to regret it. I promise you that." 

She'd surprised them both enough that neither one had yet recovered, their brains trying to process where she'd suddenly sprung up from, and she took the opportunity to divest Peter of his can of anesthetic gas. Unfortunately, she hadn't realized that, in his other hand, he held the syringe containing the Legacy cure, which he'd already removed from the refrigerator behind him. 

He stood there, unmoving, simply looking at her, that curtain down behind his eyes, over his face, making him unreadable.

"Kitty, please...just walk away. It has to be done and my mind is made up. You cannot change it, but I would rather you not be here to witness this."

She meet his gaze steadily, unmoving. Kitty didn't question that he was serious. She knew, without a doubt, that he was. So was she. 

They would both walk out of here tonight, or neither of them would. It was that simple.

"Sorry, Peter, but that's not happening. You want to do this, you're going to have to do it with me here. You can't knock me out. You can't even touch me." 

He blanched slightly, but stood firm, unmoving, the syringe of neon pink liquid uncapped, needle bare, clutched tightly in his fist. Kitty wasn't sure she would be quick enough to stop him if he tried to use it on himself, but she would damn well give it her best shot. 

"You are right. I cannot force you to go. I would rather you not be here, but it is your choice. Just as this is my choice." His expression softened slightly then, as he tried to make her understand. "The hardest thing I have ever done was watch helplessly as Illyana was taken by this virus. And I cannot, in good conscience, stand by while someone else's sister, or mother, or brother, or daughter suffers and dies as she did. Not when there is a means to stop it within my reach."

Kitty took a millisecond to consider her options, then spoke to Cecelia, who was still standing behind her, not knowing what to do, apparently afraid to move, less it set off what they were both trying to prevent.

"Cecelia, go get Hank. Quickly. Tell him what's happening. Tell him to bring resuscitation equipment." She instructed the doctor, not daring to turn around, not daring to take her eyes off Peter, even for a split second.

"What!?" Dr. Reyes gaped at her back, thinking the girl must have lost her mind. "Kitty, I can't leave you here, alone..."

"You can, and you will. Peter won't hurt me. That's not even a concern. Just do what I ask...Please."

Something in her voice, in her body language, told the doctor that further argument would be futile and Cecelia Reyes spun on her heels, running out of the medlab and down the hall, screaming for Hank at the top of her lungs.

Before she was even out the door, Kitty took one small step closer to Peter, seeing the confusion on his face.

_**Good. Confusion is good. Keep him off balance.**_

"Has it somehow slipped your mind, Peter, that I was there, too. I was sitting right beside Illyana, closer than I am to you right now, holding her hand, when she went into complete respiratory arrest." God, oh God, it was so hard to remember that day. It hurt so much. Even now, years later, she could hardly bear to think about it. 

Her face a mask of remembered pain, her voice shaking, Kitty struggled to continue. "I was the one who argued against the Professor putting her onto that Shi'ar stasis device. Maybe...maybe if I'd let him go ahead, if I hadn't stopped him, this cure might have given her the chance she deserved. The chance to live..."

It was an somewhat unfair tactic, Kitty knew, to bring that particular detail into the argument, but she wasn't known for playing fair in the best of circumstances. She certainly wouldn't waste time on it now. No matter how much it might hurt him. Or her.

His hand touched her cheek as she drew in a ragged breath, and this time it was Peter who took a step closer to her.

"Katya...do not think such a thing. You did the only thing you could, the thing I would have done had I been here. You did the right thing. Illyana would not have wished such an existence and I would not have wished it for her. She is gone, but there are others like her who can still benefit from this." 

He held up the syringe, it's contents reflecting a multi-hued prism on the medlab wall as it caught the light. Kitty raised her head, looking at the pastel colored fluid that was both cure and curse, and damned Stryfe to the depths of hell and eternal torment at the hands of Satan's most vicious devils. 

"Most likely, Peter, you're right. I probably can't stop you from doing this. It's your choice." She turned her piercing, golden-brown eyes back to him then, wanting to make sure he understood, with absolute clarity, what she was about to say. "But then, we all have choices. What you have in your hand is the initial sample of the cure for the Legacy virus. You can inject yourself, trigger your mutation, and it'll be done. The virus will be cured and you'll be dead." 

However hard it might be, she didn't mince words, wasn't going to pull punches, figuratively or literally. No euphemisms, no sugar coating. Just plain, simple, unvarnished truth. It was really the only weapon she had.

Kitty stopped, taking a deep breath, holding it, releasing it slowly, and put all the conviction she was capable of in her next statement, meaning every word as she'd never meant anything else in her life. 

"What you may not know is that this isn't the only sample. There are others, locked up in the lab just next door. They're the ones Hank's been working with, trying to modify. Only, nothing's worked so far. But, they're just as lethal as what you're holding. So....know this, before you make that irreversible choice you're so set on."

In his dark eyes, she could see the dawning of comprehension, saw him waver slightly as it all began to sink in, and she knew she at least had his attention. And that she was slowly breaking through that wall.

"It'll take me about ten seconds to phase through that wall," she pointed to her right to the wall separating the two labs. "reach into that locked container, pull out one of those other samples, and use it on myself. Intangibility is my natural state. I won't even have to think about it. All I'll have to do is just...let go. Chances are, before you draw your last breath, I'll have already hit the floor."

Peter nearly dropped the syringe he was holding as the shock of what she was saying hit him. Hard. He knew he was gaping at her, but couldn't help himself. Had she lost her mind?

"Kitty...Boshe Moi...why would you say such a thing? How could you even consider...." His voice trailed off and he shook his head, trying to clear it. "What would be the point of taking your life in such a way. It is insane."

"Because," she replied levelly. "upstairs, I have this box of photographs. A big box. And all those pictures have one thing in common. All the people in them are dead. I've stood over a friend's grave for the last time. I can't do it again, and especially not if it's yours."

Silence settled over them, Peter not knowing what to say, Kitty unable to say anything else at the moment. Her composure was holding up only through the sheer force of her own will, but she wouldn't let go. Not yet. She might be very near the breaking point herself, but, until that break came, she'd do everything within her power to stop this.

Behind her, Kitty heard Hank and Cecelia enter, stopping just inside the door, and she imagined they were both wondering what to do next. She wished she could tell them, but she had no idea what the final outcome here would be. 

She still held the can of anesthetic gas in her hand. She could try to use it on him, take him by surprise and hope it took effect before he had a chance to use the syringe in his hand. She could give up, walk away and let him do as he would. And end up standing over another grave, staring at another empty place where someone should be, but wasn't. Only, this time, it would Peter, and Kitty knew that would be unbearable.

Or, she could do exactly as she'd said. Go into the next room, pull out another sample, inject herself, and let the darkness claim her. No more hurt, no more grief, no more Soulsword. No more anything. Just peace. At long last.

Kitty could feel Hank and Cecelia watching her, watching them, could almost hear them holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She wondered what they would think if they could see into her head, could know how close she was to standing exactly where Peter was. 

Would they understand that, if these roles were reversed right now, she'd already be dead on the floor, because there was no one on earth who would be able to talk her out of it once the decision was made?

And, in her own head, she understood that it didn't matter to her any more. Life or death, it was all the same as far as she was concerned. She wanted Peter to live, but she couldn't care less about herself. 

_You will live. Both of you. _

This time, the voice didn't even take her by surprise. In truth, she'd been expecting it long before now. What did surprise her was it's attitude. The statement was more an order than a prediction, and it almost made her smile. 

_**I always do what the voices in my head tell me I should.**_

Or a quote to that effect. She'd seen it on a bumper sticker. It was supposed to be humorous. Obviously, the author had never **had** a voice walking around in his head, telling him what to do, throwing more riddles and mysteries at him than the Sphinx. When it really happened, it wasn't humorous. It was pathetic.

_**If I die, who will you go to then?**_

_No one. I would wait._

_**For what? Or who?**_

_The Next._

_**Oh, good. More riddles**. **Got anything to add that might make sense?**_

When the voice didn't answer, Kitty snorted, almost laughing aloud. Damned if she didn't think she'd just insulted an evil, mystical object and sent it off in a snit.

Abruptly, it came to her that she might very well be losing her mind.

"Katya...Why?" 

Peter's softly spoken question, asked in his native Russian, jerked her brain into gear, forcing it to translate for her, and brought her back to her present situation. She automatically answered him back in the same language.

"Why what?" 

"Why would you do this thing because of me? Someone must make the sacrifice and I am willing to do that, but...." He broke off, shaking his head in confusion, the length of dark hair secured at the nape of his neck swinging with the motion, as he reached out to lay his free hand on her arm. "Katya, I do not understand. Why would you even consider such a thing when it would serve no purpose?" 

She laid her hand over his with a sigh. "What does it matter if it serves a purpose or not? What purpose would your death serve in the end? Did Moira's death serve a purpose? Or Doug's? Or Illyana's? If there's one thing I've learned in my time with the X-Men, it's that death rarely serves any real purpose, because the only one's it ever takes are the ones we can't afford to loose."

"But it would serve a purpose, Kitty." he replied quietly. "It would save thousands upon thousands of lives. What is one life when weighed against such as that?"

After seeming to give it some thought, Kitty nodded her head slowly. "Maybe you're right, Peter. Perhaps one death isn't that much when weighed against all those dying of Legacy around the world. Here, in Europe, in Genosha..." 

Letting that thought trail off, she blinked at him, tilting her head thoughtfully as she spoke again, but it was as if she wasn't speaking to him, only to herself. 

"I've been to Genosha. Recently. My father's there, somewhere. I was trying to find him." She shrugged, as if it was all inconsequential, but Peter knew better. Behind her, he could see Hank and Cecelia, just inside the door, watching them both, uncertain what to do, if anything, and exchanging confused, worried looks. "But, I couldn't. Instead, I lost another friend. Funny...no one's even asked about my dragon...."

Peter felt a sick dread settle over him as he realized he hadn't seen the little purple, alien dragon in months. And Lockheed and Kitty had been inseparable since she was fourteen.

"Kitty....what happened to Lockheed?"

"He's dead. Killed in Genosha. My fault." Her voice was flat, cold, and it sent chills down his spine, but it was nothing to what she said next. "It's horrible there. Dead and dying everywhere. I guess one life wouldn't be that high a price to pay to end all that, to give those people another chance at life. But, I'm just a little selfish. I don't know all those people out there, infected with Legacy. I know you, though, and I can't, I won't, stand by and watch you die."

Before he even realized what she was doing, her hand curled over his fist that held the syringe, though she didn't try to take it from him, simply let her fingers rest over his. "I love you, Peter. I always have. If this has to be done, then let me do it. Give me the syringe and walk away. Like you said, what's one life to save thousands?"

His own words came back and slapped him in the face with the force of a wrecking ball, nearly knocking the breath from him. 

"Nyet!" He said it with all the force he could muster, the mere thought making him physically ill. He tried to pull his hand away from hers, but found that he couldn't. Kitty was much stronger than she appeared and she refused to release him. "Never!"

"All right, then. We're back to our original two choices." Peter couldn't believe how calm she was and it suddenly dawned on him that this is what she'd been talking about when she'd accused him earlier of retreating behind a wall, of shutting down and shutting everything out. "Either you hand me the syringe, so I can give it to Hank, and we both walk out of here, or neither of us does. The choice is yours. Make it for both of us."

Kitty watched the emotions run across his face, waiting for him to decide, though she had no doubt about what the outcome would be. She had them both phased, had done it the moment their hands touched, though he wasn't aware of it. 

He couldn't use the syringe on himself now and she could easily phase it out of his grasp in an instant. But she didn't want to do that unless she absolutely had to. She wanted him to hand it over voluntarily, to choose to live and put this idea out of his mind. 

There were other options for this cure that he wasn't aware of. 

A moment later, he opened his hand, dropping the syringe into her palm. Without even looking, Kitty simply held her hand, which wasn't nearly as steady as she would've liked, out behind her and the offending object was immediately snatched away. 

Taking a second to steady herself, she cupped her hands over her face, taking deep, even breaths until she was no longer visibly trembling. She didn't dare relax right now. If she did, she knew she'd shatter into millions of pieces right here on the medlab floor. And she'd probably never be able to put herself back together again.

When she felt able, she dropped her hands to her side and, without another word to anyone, she spun around and walked back out the way she'd come, brushing past a very shaken and very stunned Hank McCoy, ignoring his and Cecelia's attempts to stop her. She simply passed right through them. 

Kitty kept up her brisk walk until she was well out of sight of the medlab. Then, she began to run.

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**To all my reviewers: You guys are the absolute best there is! Thank you all so much for taking the time out to read and comment on this fic. You don't know what a help and inspiration you guys are.**

**Evanescence kicks ass: **I'm so glad you liked chapter 9. So far, it was the one I have most enjoyed writing. Poor Kitty and Peter are sort of stuck in the Night That Never Seems to End for chapters 9, 10, and 11. Believe me, they've got a lot more talking to do now.

**Caliente: **I missed you! But I definitely understand about uncooperative computers. This chapter was supposed to be up a day or two ago, but my computer ate half of Chapter 11, which sent me into meltdown for a couple of day. Hmmm. Maybe you can teach me the Hulk Smash thing. Might come in handy. And you know I couldn't let Kurt and Kitty stay all weird around one another. Beside, she's gonna need him later, so they need to be on at least speaking terms. We'll get a cameo out of Amanda in chapter 11, if I can keep the evil computer god from smiting it again. The Bobby thing just popped into my head and I feel sorry for the guy. He's always portrayed as either an idiot practical joker, a loser, or both. I thought he deserved a little sympathy too.

***B: **Thanks so much for your review! I'm sorry I made you cry, but I gotta admit, I cried while I was writing the darn thing. How sappy is that? I'm so happy that you're enjoying the fic. Kitty and Peter are my first loves from my childhood comic days and they hold a very special place in my heart. Although, why I express that by torturing them mercilessly, I don't know.

**Lia Fail: **First, let me say how thrilled I was that you like my fic! Paint by Numbers is one of my very favorite fics **ever. **I can't tell you how much I appreciate your review! And I promise, I have no intention of killing Peter off. If I do, I'm really screwed, cause he's an integral part of the final resolution of this whole mess. Don't even get me started on how they killed him off in UXM #390. I could do an entire dissertation on how lame that issue was, along with my feeling on the entire list of wedding guests to Meggan and Brian's wedding in Excalibur #125. Sat-yr-9 kills 2 of their friends and seduces Brian, the Nazi Exaclibur tries to blow them all up, so the put them on the guest list??? I'm touched that you mentioned Chris Claremont in the same sentence with this fic. I'm trying very hard to keep my character actually in character, so you guys let me know if I start going out into outer space. And as for Belasco, well, y'know, ya just gotta think he might be lurking around somewhere, waiting to pounce on our unsuspecting cast. 

**Araya-Michiru:** I'm so glad you like the fic! Thanks so much for your review. And don't worry too much about being a little unfamiliar and confused about the X-Men comicverse. I've been reading these comics since 1979 and **I'm** confused at lot of the time. Right now there are approximately 25 years worth of X-Men comics scattered about my den, driving my family crazy, and most of the time I find out that the different comic writers over the years contradict each other. I'm trying to explain as much as I can as I go along, but let me know if I confuzzle you too much. I'll be glad to try and explain. The main thing you need to know is that Marvel has killed off the entire Rasputin family (Both Peter's parents, his brother and sister, and finally Peter himself, though I'm changing that here.) and, if you happen to be a very close friend of Kitty Pryde you're either going to die or be lost in the time stream and flung into the far future, or maybe both. And, she is connected, even in ways I hadn't realized til I started researching this story, to some very powerful forces.

**T.A. Pixiestix: **I will never tire of your reviews! Ever! I'm thrilled that you're enjoying the story and I'm extremely flattered that you're recommending it to your friend. You're the best! 

**CaptJesus: **I sense a kindred spirit. I share your pain regarding some of the current X-titles and characters. I miss the days when everyone was at the mansion, there weren't a bunch of transparent, green, pink, purple, scaly, lumpy, elephant headed kids running around being taught how to be obnoxious by Emma Frost of all people (What is up with that, anyway?), and the X-Men were heroic force for good instead of a corporate entity. I am greatly confused by X-Corp and the whole Roberto, Amara thing, not to mention the many loose and abandoned plot threads that seem to have been left dangling lately. (Vargas, Shaitan, the quest for Destiny's diaries, etc. None of that was really resolved completely.) In my personal opinion, the Chris Claremont "Demon" stories got so twisted around by different writers and plot devices over the years that it's really confusing and almost impossible to know what they're about. But I like to think they're maybe about destiny and possibly the reclaiming of innocence only thought lost. I truly appreciate that you feel I've captured Kitty's essence. That has been very important to me since I have always identified very closely with her character and I'm depending on you guys to keep me on the straight and narrow and let me know if I start to veer off into the cosmos of "I'm so out of character that I think I may be a clone of Jean Grey". Like you, I feel that Marvel is relegating some of the best characters to either "window dressing" or taking them in such strange directions that I can't even recognize them anymore. I'm right there with you in the Old School and, when all else fails, that's the reference material that I fall back on. I truly appreciate the kind words and hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Again, thanks to all my reviewers. Any and all reviews are welcomed and extremely appreciated. 

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**A/N: **Ok, a couple more things and, I swear, I'll shut up and finish chapter 11 and 12. I mentioned previously that there would be at least minor Kitty/Peter smut in chapter 11. Well, it seems that I no longer control these characters. They are writing their own stuff now and are refusing to behave as I instruct. We are looking at major smut here and these ratings are giving me a fit. This R thing is sort of vague when you look at the ff.net definition. So, are we talking Harlequin romance novel stuff being acceptable, or would that be considered NC-17, which would mean toning it down? Any help or advice would be appreciated.

The remembered dialogue while Peter is sitting on the bluff looking at the lake is from UXM #183 (Wherein Peter breaks up with Kitty in a truly stupid way and Logan takes him to a bar and lets Cain Marko kick Peter's butt.) You can thank former Marvel Editor-in-Chief "Big" Jim Shooter for that fiasco.

The dialogue between Peter and Dr. Cecelia Reyes, prior to Kitty's arrival, is from UXM #390 (Wherein Peter kills himself with the Legacy cure while the rest of the team goes outside to play mutant Basketball.)

Coming Soon: Chapter 11 – Peter and Kitty really have stuff to talk about (among other things) now! The final resolution of the Legacy Cure (and my truly evil plans for it), the mystery of the SoulSword deepens, and a cameo by a former Excalibur member.

PS. I am pretty much ignoring X-Men: Black Sun, the X-Men Unlimited issue where Wolverine, and a couple other X-Men go back to Magneto's island and encounter Belasco (mainly because it was so full of continuity errors), and most of the whole Neo/Kitty thing. 


	11. In Your Arms

**Disclaimer: **We all know the X-Men aren't mine. Pity. Not making any money off them either. I'm sure that's a huge surprise to everyone.

Just forget continuity. We left that behind a looooong time ago. If you really want a time frame, this takes place sometime just after X-Men #109. But, it'll just be so much easier if you don't obsess about it.

Ok, I know I said that this chapter would reveal the final fate of the Legacy cure. Well, I lied. It's not really my fault. Blame it on Peter and Kitty. I had everything all mapped out for them and they refused to cooperate. How's that for gratitude? Of course, I have been torturing them mercilessly, so I don't suppose I can really blame them. Anyway, they had a different idea in mind for this chapter and....well....them being the main characters and all...they pretty much won the argument. So............

**Warning:** Smut ahead. Lots of mushy, syrupy, sweet goop coming your way. Nothing too graphic, but there is definitely sexually oriented material here. If that kind of stuff offends you, flee now.

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**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 11 – In Your Arms**

For the better part of two hours, he'd searched the mansion from bottom to top, quite literally. From the deepest sub-basement to the attics of the sprawling complex they'd called home for so many years, he'd scoured them all without success. 

Of course, he found her in the very last place he looked.

Wearily, he climbed the steep, narrow stairs leading into the last of the huge house's several attic spaces. Peter hadn't been in the west wing's attic in more years than he could remember and he was going there now only because he'd already looked everywhere else. The layout was the same as the attic over the east wing, where Ororo's rooms were, but this one had always been used for storage. Or, at least, that's what he'd thought. 

It had been filled up years and years ago, and they'd been storing most things in one of the sub-basements since he'd been with the X-Men. Peter honestly couldn't remember having ever set foot in this part of the house more than once or twice in the thirteen odd years he'd lived here. 

The room was huge, one great, open area that covered the entire length and width of the west wing of the house and it seemed to be packed almost to capacity with trunks, furniture, old dress mannequins, all the things you would expect to find in the attic of a house that had, for the most part, stood in the same spot for several generations. 

Having no idea where the light switches might be, or even if there were any, Peter clicked on the small flashlight he carried, trying to shine it into all the corners, nooks, and crannies that Kitty might have retreated into. 

It felt a little silly, looking for her in here among all this, almost like they were playing hide-and-seek, but this was his last resort. He'd looked everywhere else in the house that anyone could have possibly been and hadn't found even a trace of her. Of course, she could be almost anywhere, but he had a feeling she was still in the mansion somewhere. It was his intention to find her, talk to her, while he could still do so in relative peace and privacy.

Tomorrow, he knew, would be bedlam as soon as word spread about the events of the evening. There would be no peace or privacy then, that was for certain. So, if he wanted a chance to straighten this out with Kitty, if it could be straightened out, it would have to be tonight. 

Hank and Cecelia had wanted to keep him in the medlab, "under observation", which was a polite way of saying "suicide watch", but he had flatly refused. They were not happy with him, but that concern was secondary for the moment. At least they only knew the bare bones of what had happened. 

Neither had heard what had transpired between him and Kitty at first because she'd sent Cecelia out of the room after Hank. And, when they'd returned, Peter had switched to Russian, which neither doctor spoke, so they didn't know exactly what had been said. He intended to keep it that way.

Kitty had very nearly frightened him to death, as he knew he had frightened her, as well. But the very last thing he'd ever expected was her willingness to die in order to keep him from using the Legacy cure on himself. It had humbled and shamed him beyond words.

Then, she'd turned his own argument back on him, making him realize what he would be doing to the people who cared about him, the most important of those being Kitty herself. And, she had known he couldn't take even the slightest risk that she would follow through with her threat of injecting herself. 

That still didn't leave them with a solution for the virus, but that debate would keep until morning as well. And he had no doubt what so ever that there would be debates, discussions, arguments, and lectures, ad nauseam. Or that he and Kitty would land directly in the middle of it all after tonight.

It made him wonder when, exactly, their personal lives had ceased to be **their **personal lives and become an open topic for discussion among the rest of the team. 

Peter was beginning to believe that she wasn't in the house after all, having searched most of the huge room, when a dim glow off to one far corner caught his eye. 

Following a narrow path between stacks and stacks of what appeared to be books, texts of some type, piled up higher than his head in boxes, crates, and any other available container, he made his way through the huge space.

The whole mess seemed to have evolved into somewhat of a maze over the years. In the dark, it took him a moment to realize that the arrangement seemed to have been intentional, the crates and boxes organized in such a way that they created a barrier to a section of one corner. 

He finally found the opening, seeing the soft light spilling from the gap between the crates. Stepping through, Peter found himself in what was, obviously, an improvised room.

The space here was open, having been cleared of everything but an ornate four poster bed, complete with mattress and linens, an old, Victorian style sofa and chair, a small occasional table, a turn of the century, ladies writing desk, and what appeared to be two antique, clear glass oil lamps, which were the source of the light he'd seen. 

It had apparently been set up like this for quite some time, as he doubted Kitty would have had the time, or inclination, to do it in the last hour or so, and he wondered why he'd never known about it.

She must have come up her directly after leaving the medlab. There was a large, round, lidded box, reminding him of a lady's hat box from back when hats were huge confections of tulle, lace, and silk. It appeared Kitty had been sitting on the bed, going through the box's contents, when she curled up and fell asleep. 

The first image that came to his mind was a picture from one of Illyana's story books. Sleeping Beauty, lying serenely asleep, her long, silky hair spread around her as she waited for her Prince Charming to awaken her with a kiss. Peter found it very tempting to do just that, but was fairly certain it wouldn't be met with a favorable reaction.

If the situation had been a little different, the scene would have made him smile, but too much had happened tonight for his sense of humor to be in good working order.

Walking to the bed, he sat down carefully, not sure if he should wake her. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and he had an idea she needed the rest, but he decided they needed to talk more. It might change nothing, but he couldn't leave it as it was between them. Not now. Not after what had just happened. 

She had said she loved him. To say he had been surprised would be an understatement of the first order. He had to know if it were true, or if it were simply something she had said in the heat of the moment, in her bid to convince him to turn over the syringe.

Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to wake her just yet. 

Turning off his flashlight, he laid it on the little occasional table next to the bed, beside the oil lamp that sat there, burning low, casting a soft light across her face. In the low light, in sleep, her face was almost that of the little girl she'd once been, peaceful, innocent, happy.

He stretched out his hand to stroke her hair, needing to touch her, wanting to hold her. But, at the moment, he had neither the prerogative, nor her permission, so he would wait, settling for simply running his fingers through the silky cascade of curls spread out around her.

Kitty's left hand was resting on the pillow near her face, and he noticed that her fingers were curled around something. It glinted in the flickering light, but he couldn't tell what it was. 

Curious, he took it from her loose grip, holding it up to look it over. And he still had no idea what it was.

It was a slim, golden ring, perhaps six or seven inches in diameter, with one small opening of an inch or so in the nearly perfect circle. It was heavy, had a weight to it, and Peter assumed it was solid gold, but he had no inkling what it was or what purpose it might serve. 

He held it up to the light, turning it this way and that, looking for markings, but could find none at all. 

"It's a crown." 

So intent on his inspection of the mysterious golden circlet was he, that Kitty's soft voice, from behind him, close by his shoulder, nearly caused him to drop it.

Peter turned to find her sitting up and awake, kneeling behind him on the bed, watching him.

"A crown?" He looked back at the object. I didn't resemble any crown he'd ever seen. 

Kitty held out her hand and he gave it to her. She held it carefully, in both hands, as if it were something very precious.

"Yes. The Kinross Crown to be exact. It was in the Kinross family for hundreds of years. Worn by the Lady of Kinross, as she rode beside the Lord in battle." she replied softly.

That only confused him more, and he temporarily forgot the reason he'd come to find her in the first place, his curiosity piqued. "But...there is no Lord Kinross. Was Moira's father not the last one?"

Kitty nodded, her eyes never leaving the gold circlet she held, and Peter couldn't quite decipher the emotions he saw playing across her face.

"Moira's grandfather inherited the title after his nephew, Wing Commander Lord Alisdhair Kinross, favorite cousin to Queen Elizabeth II, was killed in battle in World War II. The Kinross Crown, though, was left to me."

This was only becoming more confusing. Peter had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Or why a man killed in World War II, decades before Kitty was born, would leave her his family's ancestral crown.

"Kitty, you are confusing me. Which, I admit, is not difficult to do right now. But, why would a man you never met leave you something like this?"

Shifting the crown to one hand, Kitty turned to the round box sitting on the bed between them, rummaging through it for a minute before apparently finding what she was looking for. Wordlessly, she handed him an old photograph, a handsome young man in his late teens, perhaps early twenties, wearing a leather bomber jacket and gazing seriously into the camera.

"That's Alisdhair, taken about nineteen thirty-five. I think. I did know him, Peter. We sort of fell in love. That's why he left me the Kinross Crown. I told you about a box full of pictures of all the people I'd lost...Well, this is it." She motioned toward the hatbox full of what appeared to be dozens of photographs. "I was taking a trip down memory lane, I guess."

"But...how?" He looked from Kitty to the picture and back again, totally lost.

Taking a deep breath, Kitty launched into the story of how Rachel, as the Phoenix, accidentally sent them back to 1936 Scotland, just before the Nazi invasion and World War II. How she'd met Alisdhair and his young cousin, Lilibet, who would become Queen Elizabeth II. And how they'd ended up fighting the Shadow King, with help from Logan, who'd been sent by Irene Adler to help them. 

"After it was all over, Rachel and I got shoved back to our own time. He left this," she indicated the crown that she was now clutching so hard her knuckles were white. "with Lilibet, to give to me. I've had it ever since, though I probably should have given it to Moira. It belonged to her family, after all."

Taking her hand in his, he gently pried her fingers loose from the golden circle, replacing it, and the picture, carefully back into the box from whence it came. With his other hand, he tilted her face up, so he could look in her eyes.

"He meant for you to have it, Katya, and I believe you should keep it." Peter resolutely ignored the flash of jealousy at her mention of loving another. It wasn't as if he had any right to be jealous, considering his own history. And she certainly had owed him no loyalty. "Why have you never said anything of this before? It is quite a story."

"I never told anyone. Until now, the only one's who knew were me, Logan, Rachel, and Queen Elizabeth." Kitty couldn't help but chuckle at the absolute absurdity of that statement, and of her life in general, but the sound held no humor. "It all happened right after Illyana died, after you'd left for Avalon, after..." She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing hard, hating how the memories still held such power over her, even after all this time. "after Jean, Scott, and Professor Xavier came to Muir and....well, you know what happened there." 

"That was not your fault, Kitty." he assured her, remembering the incident. In truth, it would have been impossible for him to forget it. Though he wasn't sure he would ever forgive Professor Xavier, for what amounted to forcing Kitty to lie to him in order to get him to Muir Island, he certainly didn't blame **her**. "You did what you thought was right. I was angry at the time, I said things I did not mean, and I regret those words very much."

Kitty turned away from him then, lower lip trembling as she pressed her fingers to her eyelids, trying to hold back tears, so very sick and tired of crying all the time lately. But that particular memory was one that still held great power to hurt her. 

She had let Professor Xavier and Jean Grey talk her into doing something completely against her own moral code, against everything she believed, and she had regretted it ever since. And she would never, as long as she lived, forget the look of betrayal and hurt on Peter's face as he realized what she'd done.

"Oh, damn. Here I go again." Unable to contain them, she let the tears come, crying silently, wondering how she could possibly have any left.

Her tears destroyed him. They always had. Knowing he might be making a mistake, but unable to watch her cry and not try to comfort her, Peter reached for her, drawing her to him, prepared for her to protest. To his surprise, instead of resisting, she wrapped her arms around his neck, crawled into his lap and buried her face against his shoulder.

Kitty held onto him tightly, trembling, as all the events of the day seemed to crash down on her all at once. It was stupid, to react like this, now that it was all over, but she couldn't help it. Any more than she could help needing to be close to Peter, to have just a little time with him before her time here was over for good. 

She'd nearly lost him tonight, and the realization hit her hard. If she'd been just a few minutes later, it would have all been over and she'd be adding her pictures of him to that box, along with all the others. Kitty honestly didn't think she could have survived it. 

As it was, it had been very close. If she hadn't happened to come along when she did, Cecelia would have never been able to stop him. Dr. Reyes wouldn't have known how, and the image of what could have happened was burned into Kitty's brain for all time. Cursed with a vivid imagination, she had no trouble seeing the scene laid out before her, with Peter's dead body in the middle of it.

She quickly shook the image from her head. If she continued to think about it, she'd lose her mind. All she wanted to do, right now, was have him hold her, feel the heat of his body, listen to the steady beat of his heart, let his warm breath wash over her skin. Know that he was alive and well.

Tomorrow, everything would change, but tonight, she just wanted this.

Kitty was suddenly aware of just how close they were, here in this little alcove that no one else knew about, of how his hand lightly stroked the bare skin of her lower back, a feather light touch that sent little shivers of pleasure up and down her spine, even as her blood heated. 

Pulling back slightly, still trembling, though for an entirely different reason now, she took his face in her hands, her eye boring into his, dark lashes wet with tears.

"Don't scare me like you did today, **ever** again.....Please?"

His arms tightened around her convulsively as he pulled her against him, whispering in her ear. "I am so sorry, Katya. For everything. For tonight, for all the times I have hurt you, for not being here for you when you needed me, for not seeing you for the gift you are, before it was too late. Forgive me."

And, just like that, she was crying again, her tears soaking into the material of the thin shirt he wore, but Kitty was beyond caring. 

Why was this happening now, when it was too late? When there would only be a few hours left before she left here, and him, forever? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. But when had anything in her life ever been fair?

"I forgave you a long time ago, Peter. Forgetting is much, much harder." she finally responded, making a valiant effort to put everything back into perspective, to distance herself from him a little, while she still had the will to do so.

"If I could go back, change things, I would. But I cannot." Thinking back to all the times he'd hurt her, all the times he could have mended things between them and hadn't, Peter couldn't blame her for not trusting him, for not believing that things could be different between them now. And he had no idea what he could say to her to make her believe. 

"I know." She heaved a deep sigh, leaning back just far enough so that she could see his face. "And I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that things can't be different, that **we** can't be different."

Though what she said might very well be true, he wasn't quite ready to accept that things couldn't change. There was still something between them, something left of the feelings they used to have for each other. Peter could feel it and he believed Kitty could as well. 

Steeling himself, he took the opportunity presented and asked the question he most wanted the answer to, hoping she would tell him the truth, yet also afraid that, if she did, it wouldn't be what he wanted, needed, to hear.

"When you said that you love me...did you mean it?"

His dark blue eyes never left hers, and he saw the answer to his question, as he stared into those warm, golden depths, long before she actually spoke 

"If I hadn't meant it, I wouldn't have said it. I do love you. I'll always love you." Her arms twined around his neck, her hand idly running through his ponytail, letting the soft, dark hair run through her fingers like water as her eyes filled with sorrow and regret. "But, it doesn't change anything."

"And I love you as well. That should count for something." It hurt to hear her say it, more than Peter had thought possible. But, still, he couldn't bring himself to give up. Though it might be useless, he had to try and change her mind. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't. "Do we not at least deserve a chance to try again?"

"Of course it counts for something." she replied. Her fingers, of their own volition, began caressing the skin along the back of his neck. Feeling him shiver under her touch, Kitty had to force herself not to simply melt into him, forget everything else and just give in. "It's just not enough to cancel out all the other obstacles between us. Maybe someday it will be, but not now." 

"Someday?" It wasn't much, but it was something. At this point, he was willing to take whatever hope she would give him.

She leaned in closer to him, their faces almost touching, her eyes staying locked with his. "I can't make you any promises, Peter. I wish I could. I'm so tired of fighting what I feel for you, what I've always felt..."

"Then do not fight it." he put in before she could finish. "I love you, Katya. I want you with me. We can leave here together."

Closing her eyes against another bout of tears, Kitty buried her face against his neck. "Please...please...don't ask me for something I can't give." she begged, knowing that, if he continued like this, she'd eventually crumble, do whatever he wanted. And then where would they be? The Soulsword wanted them both and she refused to let it have it's way.

But her determination carried a heavy price. She honestly hadn't thought her heart could possibly break any more than it already had tonight, but his heartfelt words caused yet another piece to fall away, and she was afraid she'd never be able to put all the pieces back together again. 

They sat in silence for a time, neither quite knowing where to go from here, both unwilling to part at the moment. Kitty knew their time was growing very short, and Peter, though he didn't know her intentions, felt it as well. 

"Has tonight truly changed nothing between us?" Peter asked at length, his voice soft, hurt, and her heart cracked again. 

Swallowing her tears and regret, she sat up, sliding off of his lap to sit on the bed beside him. Shoulders slumped, she leaned forward, dropping her head as she stared at her folded hands. 

She truly didn't know how to answer. It had changed everything, and it had changed nothing. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why could nothing in her life be straight forward? Why couldn't anything be easy? Just once.

"Yes....and no. It doesn't change anything right now. It can't." she finally answered quietly, trying to keep her voice from wavering.

"But, why...." he began, but she shook her head, stopping him from saying more.

"Please, don't ask me, Peter. I'm begging you." 

Kitty turned toward him then, and he could easily see how distraught she was. She looked completely exhausted, drained. He knew she'd been crying, probably at the club as well as here. Tears he was responsible for. He felt like a monster for putting her through all he had today and he truly didn't want to make things any harder for her. But he loved her so much, he couldn't just give up and let her slip away from him yet again.

"Katerina..." Laying his palm against her cheek, he gently stroked her soft skin with the pad of his thumb. "Can you give me nothing to hope for?"

She leaned into his touch, blinking up at him, watching him quietly, seeming to consider his question. At last, her lips curved very slightly. "It may not be a lot, and it probably isn't what you want, but I can tell you that, if there is any way possible, when I get things....sorted out, I'll find you. I don't know how long it might be." she cautioned before he could get his hopes up too much. "It might be never, and I don't expect you to wait for me. But, if I can, if you still want me, we'll try again."

It was as much as she could give him, more than he had any right to hope for, and Peter vowed that, this time, if Fate gave him another chance with her, he would not throw it away. If she came back to him, it would be forever.

He simply nodded and she closed her eyes, placing her hand over his for a few moments, taking comfort and strength from his presence, his nearness, before opening them again, a new, fragile, kind of peace shining there. 

Whatever the future held, Kitty felt better for them having at least not separated with nothing but anger and hurt between them, as had happened so many times before. 

Maybe it was a good sign that they'd managed to do this tonight, even with everything that had happened, without it deteriorating into a screaming match. Maybe they both had finally grown up.

"I will wait for you. There is no one else that I want." he told her seriously, meaning every word. "But promise me, if you need me, for anything, you will let me know."

"I promise." 

She made the promise gladly, thankful that he didn't press her further for information that she couldn't give him. Better that he continue to believe, along with everyone else, that she was simply going to Muir to be with Rhane. Knowing about the Soulsword would only upset him, and would do neither of them any good at this point. But now, perhaps, there was a kind of hope, slim as it might be.

As if coming out of a trance, Kitty suddenly straightened up, rubbing at her eyes and looking at the piles of pictures and papers scattered over the bed. Turning, she tucked her legs under her and began gathering the items up, returning them to the box.

"I'd better get this cleaned up. God only knows what time it is."

Turning to help her, he grinned. "Either very late, or very early." As she chuckled at his comment, he looked once again around the small, improvised room. "I had no idea this was up here."

"I don't think anybody does. Or, if they did, they don't remember it. Doug, Yana, and I discovered it one rainy day while we were exploring. We kinda took it as our secret place. Sometimes we'd come up here to read, or play games, or just get away from everybody else. It was sorta like our private sanctuary."

The little light that had returned, left her eyes again as she thought of those two friends, whose pictures were now in this box with everyone else she'd lost. It never got any easier, the pain never lessened, and she couldn't help but wonder how many more pictures she'd be adding to the growing pile when it was all said and done.

"You miss them very much." The observation was redundant. He could see it in her eyes, on her face, in the way she seemed to wilt under the memories.

Illyana had been Peter's sister, and not a day passed that he didn't miss her terribly, but she was Kitty's best friend and, once, they had been as close as sisters. And Doug Ramsey had, like Kitty, been a genius with computers, as well as being the same age as Kitty and a member of the New Mutants along with Illyana. For a time, the three had been almost like a single unit. You rarely saw one without the others.

"Yeah. I miss them a lot. Some days more than others, but this place reminds me of them so much." She brushed at a stray tear that had made it's way down her cheek, then looked around the bed, trying to make sure she'd gotten everything, and wanting to focus on something besides the past. Seeing something on Peter's other side, she pointed to it. "Could you hand me whatever that is on the other side of your leg."

Recognizing that she didn't want to talk anymore about the one's they'd lost, Peter went along with the subject change and looked where she was pointing, finding a leather bound book, it's title written in what appeared to be Latin. Once he picked it up, he immediately knew what it was.

"Katya, I thought you gave your volume of Destiny's diary to Ororo?" He looked down at it in confusion, knowing he wasn't mistaken about what it was, but he could have sworn Storm had the diary just a day or two ago.

Biting lightly on her bottom lip, Kitty flushed slightly, dropping her eyes. "I gave her **one**. This is another one."

"Why did you keep this one and give her the other?" An idea struck him and he pinned her with a knowing look. "She does not know about this one, does she?"

In answer, Kitty blushed even redder, taking the diary from his hand, putting in back in the box, and closing the lid. "No, she doesn't, and I'd rather you not tell her."

"Why? I thought that was the whole purpose of this new team, to search out these books."

Sighing heavily, Kitty picked up the box and set it on the floor, pushing it under the edge of the bed. 

"Shortly after Irene Adler died, this came to me in the mail, care of the lawyers handling her estate. With it were specific instructions, from Destiny, to give the first diary to Ororo, when the time came, but to keep the second one, and copies of the first, with me. I don't know why. I haven't even looked at that one. I'm almost afraid to, but I'm also afraid not to do what she wanted. We've seen too much out of the other book come true."

Of course, the first thought that entered both their minds was of the recent battle with Apocalypse and the calling of the Twelve, which the Diary had predicted. They had lost Scott Summers, Cyclops, the first X-Man, in that battle and it had been a devastating blow to the entire team. They still hadn't fully recovered.

Kitty looked extremely uncomfortable with the subject, and Peter couldn't really blame her. To his way of thinking, those diaries had brought nothing but trouble since they were first discovered, and he was even more troubled by the fact that, at every turn, Kitty seemed connected to either the Diaries or Destiny herself. 

"Perhaps the best thing that could be done would be to destroy it. I do not know that it is a good idea for these books to all be brought together to begin with. They seem to bring only pain and misery." 

His eyes were dark, expression very serious, and Kitty couldn't say she necessarily disagreed with him. It seemed everyone and everything connected with the diaries came to nothing but grief. But something told her not to destroy the books, that one day they may serve a purpose for good, though she had no idea what that might be. And right now, she didn't care. 

She'd had more than enough bad memories, tears, fears, and all the other assorted crap she'd been dealing with for months now. She was tired, wrung out, emotionally and physically, and all she wanted, at the moment, was to crawl into a nice warm bed, get what rest she could before she packed up and left. 

But all it took was one look at the man beside her for her body to call her a liar. She wanted more than that, and she knew it. 

"Maybe, but honestly, I don't care right now. I'm tired, my head hurts, and I've had quite enough crises for one day. I'll care later, when I've got the energy."

Peter blinked at her, taking her abrupt words as a dismissal, and started to stand. "I should go, let you get back to your room and get some rest."

Before he could rise, he felt her hand on his arm, pulling him back down. 

"I'm not going back downstairs. I'm sleeping up here tonight, where nobody..." she stopped, smiled at him rather lopsidedly, and corrected herself. "well, hardly anybody...can find me." Gazing into his eyes, her smile slowly faded, her expression turning serious, as she moved closer to him. "Peter..."

Kitty wasn't sure what she'd been about to say, how to tell him what she wanted, needed, without sounding like either an idiot, or a giggling schoolgirl. Nothing in her life had ever quite prepared her for this. The X-Men's training didn't exactly run to classes in Seduction 101 and she was suddenly extremely nervous. 

She wanted him to stay, but she wasn't sure he would want to. In all of her fantasies and daydreams of what she'd do if this moment ever actually presented itself, never had she imagined that she'd be a nervous wreck. And she certainly hadn't imagined having to deal with it after a night like tonight.

Like any girl, she'd imagined candlelight, romance, music. Tears, public scenes, and narrowly averted suicidal sacrifices for the good of humanity had not, at any point, entered into the equation. Life was strange like that, she supposed, especially around this place. But she wasn't willing to just let it go. 

It might hurt more when the time came to leave. It might be a huge mistake. But it might also be the last chance she'd ever have. Earlier, she'd wished for one night with him. Kitty was hoping it wasn't too late for that one wish to be granted. Surely it was the least that she deserved, that they deserved.

Gazing into his cobalt eyes, the flickering lamplight playing across his chiseled features, casting a halo around his black, wavy hair, Kitty opened her eyes and really **looked** at him, as she hadn't allowed herself to do in years. And he took her breath away. 

His name passed her lips on a whispered breath as she lifted her hand to his face. Catching it in his own, much larger, one, Peter brought it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss in the center of her palm. 

Kitty's breath caught, a shiver running through her at the gentle contact and, without even realizing it, she leaned in, wanting closer contact with him, drawn to him as she'd never been to anyone else. 

With his free hand, Peter stroked one silken cheek with the tips of his fingers, almost tentatively, as he looked deeply into those expressive, golden eyes watching him so seriously.

It was almost as if a spell were being woven, locking them in a cocoon, separating them from time and space, from the rest of the world. The slightest misstep, and the spell would be broken, the world would come crashing back, and this moment would be ruined. Neither of them wanted that. 

As he watched her, her lips curved softly, a little shyly, but it was all he needed as he released her hand and wrapped his arm around her, urging her to him. Again, she didn't resist and he carefully pulled her back into his lap, gently molding her against him, wanting her lithe, slim body as close as possible.

With a sigh, Kitty relaxed into him, basking in the warm, solid feel of his body, trying not to think of how very differently things could have turned out, how much more of a disaster this night could have been. 

It had been quite disastrous enough, thank you very much, and she was ready to try her hand at a little happiness. 

Even if it was only an illusion. Even if it was only for a few hours.

She was sick and tired of being the paper flower caught in a whirlwind, shredded, torn, pulled in a dozen different directions at once on the whim of Fate, with no rhyme or reason. Surely there could be a few minutes of calm in the eye of the storm.

Kitty snuggled close, content in his embrace. If she closed her eyes, let her mind wander, it was almost as if they had never been apart. The scent, the feel, of him was familiar, comforting. Slowly, the remaining tension in her body eased completely. It was a safe, sweet feeling. It was home. 

His hands slid up and down over her back, the soothing motion lulling her almost to sleep, even as she was acutely aware of his touch on the skin left bare by her outfit. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt cherished, loved. 

After a time, one of Peter's hands moved slowly from her back to her sides, down to her waist and over the exposed skin of her abdomen that he could easily reach, feather light touches that made her tingle, sending little jolts of electricity throughout her entire body. His hands were rough against her sensitive skin and she basked in the sensations he was creating in her. She barely noticed, and certainly didn't protest, as he moved from her waist, over her hip and down one shapely, leather-clad leg and back again. 

Peter's arm tightened around her slightly as he brushed her long hair back from her shoulder and began feathering soft kisses along the curve of her neck, the side of her face. Everywhere his lips touched, her skin warmed and tingled and she didn't even consider telling him to stop. It felt too good, too right. 

They were so close and Kitty couldn't resist turning her head, touching her mouth to his, gently at first, but with growing urgency as he tightened his grip on her further, molding her soft curves hard against his solid, muscular frame. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him to her as their tongues explored, twined, caressed. 

Kitty shifted restlessly on his lap, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position and Peter had to suppress a groan. He broke the kiss only to have Kitty pull him back to her, soft lips moving seductively against his, tongue darting out to trace his lips, explore his mouth. 

It would have been impossible for him not to respond to her and his hands itched to truly explore her body, but he forced himself to keep them safely at her waist and back. They were already playing with fire, but he didn't seem to be able to stop.

With a little moan of frustration, Kitty suddenly disengaged herself from his embrace and, before he realized what she was doing, she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips. 

Since they were nearly eye to eye now, Kitty indulged herself a little, running her hands through his thick, black hair as she brushed her lips lightly across his, watching his face as she did so.

Other than his eyes darkening another shade, Kitty had absolutely no warning before he hungrily covered her mouth with his. A kiss that had started out sweet, gentle, the barest brushing of lips, quickly depend into something much more. 

With a sigh, she opened her mouth to him, letting her hands glide from his face, down his neck, over the thick ropes of muscles in his shoulders and back, as his body tightened and flexed under her gentle touch. 

But it still wasn't enough. Kitty squirmed in his arms, determined to press closer, desperately wanting something she couldn't even name. Peter groaned, reluctantly breaking the kiss as he gently pushed her back from him just a little, knowing she had no idea what she was doing to him.

Gasping for breath, their hearts racing, the two would-be lovers stared at each other, each trying to gauge the other's reaction.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she gazed up at him, but Peter wasn't sure if it was because she was drowsy or aroused. But he did know it was time for him to get out of there, before things went much too far. And he had to do it now. In another few moments, he wouldn't have the strength.

His hands spanning her waist, he carefully, but determinedly, set her away from him and stood up, giving her no chance to protest and leaving her looking up at him, stunned, confused, and hurt.

"I should go back to my room. It has been a long day and we both need sleep. We can talk more tomorrow. Good night."

Before he could change his mind, he turned to go, telling himself to ignore the way she was looking at him, the fact that he'd hurt her yet again, the way her bottom lip was trembling, as if she were near tears. 

She wanted closeness, comfort, but he wanted much, much more and he didn't want to end up hurting her even worse than he already had. He would not take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable. And, if he stayed any longer, that is exactly what would happen.

"Peter...wait." Kitty was at war with herself, not really knowing what to do. He'd been fine one minute, seemed to enjoy being with her. Then, he'd just put her aside and took off before she even knew what was happening. In all likelihood, she was about to humiliate herself beyond all hope of recovery, but she couldn't just let him go. Not like this. If he didn't want her, fine, but she was going to know one way or another.

At her call, the large man stopped, giving her a questioning look and she dropped her eyes, seeming to find her clasped hands very interesting. 

"Da, Katya." 

Suddenly nervous, and feeling like a geeky, fourteen year old kid again, Kitty blushed prettily. Well, Peter thought it was pretty. She thought it was moronic and childish. 

Annoyed with herself, and her seeming regression into a stuttering adolescent, she forced herself to stop fidgeting and look him in the face.

"Well...you see, Peter...that's just the thing. I don't want you to go back to your room. I'd really like it if you'd stay here...with me." Seeing his eyes widen in shock she was tempted to just give up and phase herself into the floor, but decided she might as well shoot for complete and total mortification. She'd gone this far. How much worse could it get? 

_**No time like the present to find out.**_

Feeling herself blush even brighter, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened her eyes and tried again. "I would just like to be close to you tonight."

For the longest time, he simply stood there, staring at her, until Kitty was ready to simply go ahead and die of embarrassment. Yes, this had been a stupendously bad idea.

With an exasperated sigh, Kitty let herself fall back across the bed, her long, slim legs dangling over the edge as she contemplated the ceiling. "Look, never mind. Let's just forget this ever happened, ok? Really bad idea. Really. Bad. And, come to think of it, I've done this scene already. Didn't go very well then, either."

When he finally recovered himself, Peter quickly went to her, sitting on the edge of the bed as he tried to get her to look at him, without much success. 

Not knowing what else to do, he took one of her slender hands in his. This was the last thing he'd ever expected when he'd come up here looking for her earlier and he found himself at quite a loss. 

"Look at me, Katya." He waited until she'd finally turned those glorious brown eyes his way before continuing. "Talk to me. I am not sure I understand what you want."

With an irritated exhalation, her eyes went back to the ceiling. "Honestly? I'm not really sure myself anymore. We're both adults, but I suddenly feel the exact same way around you that I did when I was fourteen."

"It is the same for me." Peter told her with an open, honest smile, a light blush coloring his fair complexion. "I am twenty eight years old, but when I am around you, I feel nineteen again. It is rather...disconcerting."

"To say the least." Tired of staring up at the roof line, but still not quite able to bring herself to face him, Kitty closed her eyes, hoping that would make things easier. Why had she ever thought she could do this? Why had she ever even imagined that he might want this too? "I feel like such an idiot. We're not the same people we were all those years ago. We've grown up, changed. I should have realized..."

Kitty's pursed her lips tightly as her voice broke the slightest bit on the last sentence and it tore at Peter's heart. He hadn't meant to upset her, again, but he was having a hard time following her. "Should have realized what?" 

All he knew at this point, for certain, was that she had asked him to stay with her, but he wasn't sure if she meant simply for company, or for something he didn't even dare let himself hope for. Before he jumped to any conclusions, he wanted to know for sure, without any shadow of a doubt, exactly what she meant.

She was silent for a very long time, and Peter began to wonder if was going to speak to him again at all. Just as he had almost decided that she wasn't, she took a deep breath and spoke with quiet defeat. "I should have realized that, if you didn't want me then, you wouldn't want me now."

It was so alien to anything he'd anticipated her saying that it took a few minutes for her words to sink in. When they finally registered, it left him stunned. How, he wondered, could she think such a thing? 

Without further hesitation, he stretched out beside her, wrapping her in his strong arms as she embraced him in turn, hiding her face against his chest. 

"But I did want you then, as I want you now." His quiet, sincere words had her lifting her face to look up at him, only to find him watching her with heart in his eyes. Taking her hand and again lifting it to his lips, Peter placed a gentle kiss on her soft skin and Kitty's heart did a little flip-flop as her insides melted. "But you were so young. It would have been wrong to take advantage of you in that way."

"And now?"

"We have had a very emotional, stressful day." As he spoke, Kitty tucked her head underneath his chin, snuggling close as he idly stroked her long hair. Planting a kiss on the top of her head, he settled her against him, closing his eyes. She felt so right nestled against him that he never wanted to let her go. "I do not think we should rush into this. Once done, it cannot be undone."

"Things with us are in a real mess, aren't they?" It was said with a little, sardonic, half smile as she tilted her head to gazed up at him. "Guess it'd be too much to ask for things to go right for once, huh?"

In answer he lowered his head as he captured Kitty's soft, warm mouth with his, the kiss long, deep and erotic, but oh so sweet, as their lips moved together insistently.

Peter pulled away first, cupping her cheek in his palm. He'd loved this woman for so long, had given up any hope of ever being with her again. Yet here she was, in his arms, and he wanted nothing more than to consummate the love he knew they both felt. But he'd already made enough mistakes with her. He had to be absolutely sure it was what she wanted as well, and that they were doing this for the right reasons.

"I want things to be right between us. That is why I do not want to rush into something you may come to regret later." If she wasn't ready for a physical relationship with him, then so be it. He was a patient man. He had waited for her for almost a decade, a little longer wouldn't kill him. This was too important to ruin through carelessness. "I have to know that you are sure this is what you want."

"I don't feel like I'm rushing. If anything, I think I've had more than enough time to think about this." Her eyes softened as she caressed his cheek lightly, melting his heart, as she'd always been able to do, with nothing more than a look. "I love you, Peter. I love the boy you were, and I love the man you are now. If you want me, I want to be with you. I **need **to be with you. Whatever happens, I could never regret this. I could never regret you."

"Katya," he told her gravely, willing her to understand what this meant to him, what she meant to him. "you are very important to me and I cannot take this step with you lightly. If I stay here, with you, tonight, it will be as a commitment between us." 

Her hand, resting on his chest, slowly slid up toward his face, moving over the muscled contours of his shoulder, his neck, her fingers sliding through his thick, soft hair as she pressed even closer to him. 

"Don't you think I know that, Peter? I don't know what the future's gonna hold for us, but we've already talked about that. I've given you the only promise I can and this, for the moment, is the only commitment we can make to each other." Dropping her eyes, Kitty became very quiet, almost hesitant, as she spoke again. "You may not think I've thought this through, but I have. More than you know. This isn't something I've ever even considered seriously before. With anyone."

She waited patiently for the reaction she knew was coming, and she wondered whether he would believe her. Not that she would blame him if he didn't, but the truth was the truth. 

Kitty was very aware of what everyone had naturally assumed about her relationship with Pete Wisdom, and she hadn't bothered to disabuse them of the notion. It had been easier to let everyone believe what they wanted. She still felt more than a little guilty about how, and why, that relationship had ended and dragging out the whole, sordid story to all her friends and family just hadn't been something Kitty had been willing to get into. 

It wasn't exactly on her list of favorite topics for discussion now either, but she couldn't very well avoid it this time. Leaving it as a surprise was not an option.

Peter blinked those deep blue eyes at her in confusion. "Katya....?" He began slowly, not quite able to believe his interpretation of what she'd said could possibly be right. He had to have misunderstood her meaning. Maybe the events of the day were finally catching up with him and befuddling his brain. "You do not mean that you are....? But you and Wisdom....I thought..." 

Knowing that she was blushing furiously...again...Kitty exhaled heavily and shook her head. "Yes, I am and, no, we didn't." God, this was humiliating. At the moment, she was questioning why she hadn't just let Peter leave and spared herself the continued embarrassment that this had turned into. "Everyone just presumed. But it never felt right to me. I just...couldn't, and it was part of the reason we were having problems. The incident with Rigby Fallon during my S.H.I.E.L.D. internship was simply what finally capped it off."

Her revelation left Peter dumbfounded, not knowing what to say, but feeling a tremendous sense of awe that she would offer him such a gift, that she would trust him to such an extent. 

Trailing his fingertips along the curve of her face, he pulled her into a soft, sweet kiss. "You leave me speechless. Are you absolutely sure that I am what you want?"

Kitty, turning her head, nestled into the large palm so gently cupping her cheek. Sweet, gentle, loving Peter, with his massive strength and artistic soul. What other man would be so concerned, so protective, of her and her feelings when she was practically throwing herself at him? 

Though she was still blushing lightly, Peter watched the soft smile bloom on her face, in her eyes, as their lips met again, lingering, making their heads spin and driving nearly every coherent thought from their minds. 

When she was again looking at him, her wide, soulful, eyes filled with desire, longing, and – yes – love, gave him all the answer he needed, but her words made his heart soar just the same. 

"I'm absolutely positive. I'm not a kid anymore, Peter. Neither of us are. I understand what I'm doing. You're what I've always wanted, almost from the first moment I saw you."

Hugging her to him, he nuzzled his cheek against hers as he whispered into her ear the only words he had that were even remotely adequate to describe his feelings for her. "I love you, Katya." 

The low, sexy, tone of his voice, the feel of his warm breath on her face as he nibbled on her ear, his mouth on her skin, sent a shiver of desire through her that set her entire body on a slow burn. 

Peters attentions moved from her earlobe, down her neck as he planted soft, open mouth kisses along the petal-soft hollow of her throat, gently nipping and suckling at the delicate skin as Kitty responded with a soft moan of pleasure. As he nuzzled her neck and shoulders he let his hands begin to slowly explore her body, as he'd wanted to so desperately before. 

"Peter..." His name was little more than a whispered moan on her lips, her fingers tangled in his thick, wavy hair. "God, that feels wonderful."

She was absolutely beautiful, was all he could think. The growing glow of sexual arousal only enhancing that beauty, as she threw her head back, closing her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of his touch as he carefully traced each dip and curve he could reach. 

Unable to resist, Kitty's hands slid down his chest, slowly undoing the row of buttons down the front of his shirt until she could part the thin material and run her fingers over his bare torso.

With a sigh, she let her hands move over him, his taut abdomen, sleek heavily muscled chest, corded shoulders, enjoying the way his body tightened and rippled under her touch as she worked her hands upward.

His skin was warm, soft, over that rock hard body. There was nothing subtle about his physique. He was all flat, hard planes, and thick, rippling bulges. Taking her time, Kitty reveled in the feel of his skin as she took her time exploring his upper torso.

"Katya..." Her name was a whispered groan of raw need as Peter sat up just long enough to shrug out of his shirt and toss it to the floor. She held her arms out to him and he immediately came back to her. 

He began nibbling gently on her ear again, enjoying the way she moved against him as he slid his palm up her side, slipping it underneath the lacy scrap of a top she wore to run his hand along her silky, soft bare skin. 

As his fingers gently brushed the side of her breast, she tensed , giving a little gasp of surprise and he immediately stopped. "Are you uncomfortable with this? I will stop if you want." 

By the time he'd asked the question, though, she'd already relaxed again. "No." Her answer was more of a sigh than an actual word. Kitty sounded contented and slightly drowsy. "It feels very nice. I don't want you to stop." 

Slowly, he caressed her, his touch light as he moved over her breasts, her sides, enjoying the dips and valleys, then down to the soft flare of her slender hips, trim waist. 

There wasn't an ounce of fat on her, he realized, feeling the muscles under her velvet skin tighten and bunch beneath his touch. Years of training had left her in peak physical condition. She was trim and taut, soft and curvy. Perfect. And he wanted nothing more at that moment than to lose himself in her.

Almost without conscious thought, Kitty arched against him with a soft moan. The call of his body to hers was almost irresistible, but, then, she didn't really have any plans to resist. With every kiss, every caress, her body became needier, more sensitized, a burning heat spreading through her.

She didn't even blush when he carefully tugged the thin, little, lacy top over her head and dropped it over the side of the bed to join his own shirt. All she was interested in was drawing him back to her, wanting to feel him next to her, skin to skin. 

Her eyes, her expression, her whole body, softened as she gazed up at him. He was watching her again with those midnight blue eyes and she could feel her skin warm and tingle everywhere his gaze touched. She spared a moment to wonder that she wasn't embarrassed at all, but then forgot all about it as he kissed her again, their hands automatically returning to one another, continuing their explorations, as they pressed tightly together.

Her mouth left his and Kitty nipped playfully at his lower lip before working her way down his jaw, gently kissing and suckling her way down his neck as his breathing became more shallow. His large hands began stroking and massaging her from the the small of her back, over her bottom, and down the back of her legs, his fingers occasionally brushing against the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Even through the thin leather of her jeans it made her shiver in anticipation of more intimate contact.

As she concentrated on exploring his shoulders and chest with her mouth, his hands moved to the front of her leather jeans, undoing the buttons there one by one. The muscles in her stomach quivered slightly as his hand slid over her to push gently at the article of clothing. 

Raising her face, she found him looking to her in question, waiting for permission before he went any farther. Ignoring the little flight of butterflies that had suddenly taken wing in her stomach, Kitty shifted, raising her hips so that he could slide the garment over them and down her legs. 

Biting her lower lip as the first real bout of nerves hit her, Kitty had to stop herself from crossing her arms over her breasts self-consciously or closing her eyes as Peter stood to remove his slacks. If she couldn't even look at him, and not freak out because he was looking at her, she certainly didn't need to be sleeping with him. 

There was absolutely no denying the man was gorgeous. He always had been, but maturity had replaced his boyish good looks with a more adult, every-woman's-fantasy kind of...well...drop dead gorgeousness. Just looking at him standing there in nothing but a pair of boxers set her whole body on alert.

As he dropped his slacks onto the growing pile of clothing littering the floor beside the bed, Peter turned back to her, and stopped dead in his tracks, just looking down at Kitty in absolute awe. She was so beautiful, all smooth, peaches and cream skin, long, slim legs, and soft, subtle curves. 

Those enormous, expressive eyes were watching him just as he was watching her and, to his surprise, she didn't seem at all self-conscious lying there as he sat on the edge of the bed and continued to study her. Looking at her now, he could still see traces of the girl in the woman she'd become, and it made him smile.

He sat there for a moment longer, taking her in, wanting her so desperately, but not wanting to rush this first time. They deserved time to enjoy one another and he wanted to be as gentle, as careful, as possible with her. 

Had she been able to read his mind, Kitty would have been surprised to find Peter actually more nervous than she was. He loved her, wanted everything to be perfect for her, and he was afraid of making a mistake, of moving to fast and upsetting her.

Stretching out on his side, next to her, he once more stroked her long fall of glossy, chestnut curls as she turned to him with a smile. Taking her in his arms again, he loved her thoroughly, with soft lingering kisses and gentle caresses that went on and on until need was like a living flame burning through her body. She held tightly to him as they tasted and touched and explored each other as they had wanted to for so very long.

Her lithe, smooth body flowed like water through his hands as, with soft sighs and moans of pleasure, Kitty gave herself to him freely, unreservedly. It wasn't in her nature to love only half way. To those she let into her heart, she gave everything, her love, her support, and, especially with Peter, her very soul. He was a part of her as her own skin was a part of her. Without him, she'd never quite be whole again.

Her body, her responses, the way she was moving so urgently against him, was slowly but surely wearing away at his tenuous control and he didn't want things to go so far that he forgot to go slowly, gently, with her. Before that could happen, Peter caught her mouth in a slow, lingering kiss as he carefully shifted positions, rolling them over so that she was underneath him.

Almost immediately, he felt her slim hand glide across his lower abdomen to the waistband of his boxers. 

With a groan, he broke the kiss, burying his face against her neck, inhaling the scent of soap and the light, floral perfume she wore as he kissed and nibbled on her warm skin. She arched under him and he let his hand wander down her body, caressing the smooth skin over taut, compact muscle as his fingers skimmed over her flat belly.

Then, her hand was tugging at his boxers, trying to slide them off. Raising up a little, he helped her pull his shorts down and he kicked them off and out of the way, giving Kitty free access to his body, even as he slid her little, lacy bikini panties off her slender hips to discard them as well.

Lifting his head from where he was nuzzling her neck, Peter pinned her with a look so full of passion that it should have scorched the air around them. "Are you positive this is what you want, Kitty?" 

He wanted her. God, how he wanted her, but he had to give her one more chance to back out. He wouldn't push her to do something she truly didn't want simply to satisfy his physical need of her.

Katherine Pryde regarded him seriously, this man lying so very close to her, their bodies touching so intimately, watching her with such love and concern evident in every line of his face, in his dark, sparkling eyes. Peter Rasputin had held her heart in his hands since she was little more than a child. He still held it now, just as tightly as ever. There was only one answer she **could** give him.

Peter waited patiently, watching the play of emotions across her lovely, expressive face, almost holding his breath. There was uncertainty, a little fear and trepidation. But hope, and, finally, most importantly, love, far outshone all the rest.

Clasping his handsome face in her hands, she pulled his mouth to hers for a tender kiss. When they parted, she sighed, their eyes locking and holding as she ran her fingers through his dark hair. "Make love to me, Peter. I've waited so long for you."

Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he kissed her deeply as he nudged her legs apart and slowly, carefully, took her virginity. She was so slender, so petite, he couldn't, wouldn't, risk hurting her by moving too quickly and not giving her time to adjust. 

Despite the fact that she was trying not to let it show, he knew Kitty was a little afraid and he was determined that it not be any more uncomfortable for her than absolutely necessary. He wanted this to be everything it should be for her.

Kitty clung to him, closing her eyes and trembling slightly as all the nervousness and trepidation she'd managed to avoid, until now, suddenly washed over her. She wasn't a child and she knew what to expect, or at least she'd thought she did. 

To her surprise, however, Peter was so gentle, so very careful with her, that there was little discomfort and even that passed very quickly, leaving her with the most amazing sense of rightness she'd ever experienced. It was as if a missing part of herself had suddenly been returned.

He loved her with a slow, burning passion that took them both up, higher and higher, until her body went up in flames most willingly. It was desire, and passion, and need, but it was love and longing and caring as well.

Often, when she was very young, she'd tried to imagine what it would be like to be with him. Kitty had imagined many things, had many fantasies, but she'd never imagined feeling anything like this. The reality had far surpassed any expectation she'd ever had. 

In his arms, everything else dropped away as he took her beyond love, beyond the stars, beyond any dream she'd ever had. When she finally fell, Peter gladly went with her.

Afterward, Kitty lay quietly, contentedly, in his arms, enjoying the feel of him, the way his skin warmed against her own, the way he shifted slightly to be closer to her, as they seemed to drift along on their own personal cloud.

The unheated air of the attic was cool on her bare skin, but she wasn't cold. In fact, she was very comfortable, in both body and mind. It was a feeling she could barely remember ever having before. She hadn't felt this normal in years. 

Maybe, finally, there was some light at the end of the very dark tunnel that had been her life for a long, long time.

As she drifted off to sleep, the very last thing her senses registered was that the room seemed somehow...brighter. And she could have sworn she heard music.

***********************************************************************************************************************

As the couple lay sleeping in the very wee morning hours, oblivious to the fact that the lamps had gone out quite a while before, a soft, white glow spread out all about them, filling the immediate area briefly with unearthly, incandescent light. 

Above them, encased in it's own brilliant, white light, the Soulsword hung, suspended for a moment in time, it's voice ringing out in a song that seemed to infuse the very air for miles around with music, the notes drifting out on the soft breeze.

The bond was forged. The call sent out. At last, it had begun.

***********************************************************************************************************************

In the darkness of space, at the far side of the galaxy, near the very edge of the known universe, an infinitesimal, golden red, speck glowed; a tiny, cold star in the unrelieved blackness of forever. 

It didn't know how long it had been there. Time had no meaning in this place it had exiled itself to. But it didn't matter. It was timeless. Eternal.

Suddenly, it's attention was drawn to the soft notes of music, a song ringing out across the vacuum of space, where there was no air to carry it. But it was there all the same.

Listening, the speck of light expanded, doubling, tripling, growing to enormous size until it eclipsed even the largest star in existence.

Raising it's head and spreading it's wings wide, the massive raptor of cosmic fire locked in on the song. If it would have been possible for it to do so, the bird would have smiled.

With the song ringing in it's heart, it sent it echoing back to it's source as it set it's course, making it's way once more to the small blue and green planet, the third one from the yellow sun, the one it had last called home.

It was time.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Somewhere, somewhen, else, a young woman lay sleeping in her bed, completely oblivious to the music floating on the air through the open window nearby. 

A few feet from where she slept, a book rested on a shelf, one among many. But there were no others like this one. It had been there for years now, protected, hidden, exiled. It's pages were ancient, it's leather-bound jacket covered in flowing script, the title written in Latin.

As the song touched it, the tome seemed to awaken, taking on a bright, blue white, luminescence that spread out all , encompassing all around it. 

The melody washed over and through it, seeming to caress the ancient pages, then was sent back the way it came.

Soon.

***********************************************************************************************************************

**A/N: **I took a few slight liberties with the X-Men: True Friends mini-series, which is where Kitty meets Alisdhair Kinross in 1936. Although no specific time reference was given as to when this actually took place, other than Kitty saying that she needed a vacation after all she'd been through recently, it was definitely while she and Rachel Summers were in Excalibur together. In actuality, it probably occurred prior to Excalibur #71, where Professor X, Jean Grey and Scott Summers came to Muir Island and conned Kitty into tricking Peter down from Avalon, but the story seemed to fit in well with that incident for purposes of this story. After all, if Kitty didn't need a break after that fiasco, when would she ever? And, although I know Moira would have been related to Alisdhair, I couldn't find any definite details, so I made a connection that sounded plausible.

**To all my wonderful and much loved reviewers: **What would I do without you guys?? You've made writing this so much more fun than it would have been without you! Hope you've enjoyed chapter 11. Twelve is halfway done and should be up in a few days.

**Caliente:** Thanks for the rating advice. It helped a lot. I'm ignoring Black Sun because there were just too many continuity inconsistencies and I hate, hate, hate, the N'gari. Amanda actually became ruler of Limbo during an X-Men Unlimited story with Kurt, Margali, and her, where they rescued Amanda's mind in Margali's body from Belasco. I don't remember for sure which one it was, but that established her as Limbo's ruler, sorta by default, so she still is. For the moment anyway. I am soooo sorry I didn't get Amanda into this chapter. I swear it wasn't my fault, Peter and Kitty did it, but, with any luck at all, we'll see her at least briefly in the next chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed chapter 10 and Wolvie is pretty much my hero, too. Every girl should have a guy like him around looking out for her. And I'm really glad your computer's all fixed now. I rejoice with you.

**CaptJesus: **The truth does hurt. Especially, from what I've seen, when you're an X-Man. The idea for the way I wrote chapter 10 has been in my head for a very long time and it just felt right. I still have grave issues with how they handled the Legacy cure and Peter's death. It just never rang true to me. Like you, I nearly just quit reading at that point, but I've tried to catch back up over time. And I, as well, hope Claremont doesn't just chuck all the history he built into his characters for the sake of convenience in the new revamp they're doing on the X-books. I liked the X-Treme X-Men title, in general, but there were a few thinks he did during it's run that somewhat concerned me. Chief among these is his refusal to let Kitty grow up beyond a teenager. I do look forward, however, to what Joss Whedon is going to do as an X-writer. Although I'm not a big fan of continually raising the comic book dead, (Jean Grey being a prime example. Dear God, how many times has she died and come back now? It seems like it happens every other week), there are a couple of characters I'd like to see him bring back in a believable way. I'm thrilled that you enjoyed my take on The Cure. It warms my hear to know there are others out there like me who think there could have been a better way.

**Lia Fail:** You're making me blush! But thank you so much! I don't pretend to have the skill the real X-writers bring to their comics each and ever month or so, but sometimes, you just look at a character, an issue, and what happens and know that it isn't right. UXM #390 was that way for me. It was too staged that all this happened when every other member of the X-Treme team had already left, except Hank, and nearly all of Peter's very close friends were out of the mansion. Especially Kitty, who just disappeared to parts unknown after that satellite fiasco. I mean, please. She sent Wolvie a bone claw? For **Christmas**? Care of **Viper**, of all people?? The whole thing was too contrived. And I agree that the Legacy virus had become something of an embarrassment to Marvel at this point. It had gone on way too long, especially considering that either Muir Island or the mansion at Westchester had enough alien technology at their disposal to build people complete new bodies from scratch, but they couldn't cure this one retro-virus. They had created something, made a huge deal out of it as a plot device, then coudn't figure out how to get rid of it after they'd used it to kill off all the characters they didn't know what to do with. And, like you, I don't think they gave us a good enough reason why Peter had to sacrifice himself for this thing. Though the idea wouldn't have been totally out of character for him, considering the loss of his sister, I don't think he would have acted on it in the way they portrayed. As you said, they just used it to do away with yet another character they didn't want to bother figuring out what to do with. As for the parallel to the dialogue between Kate and Peter in "Days of Future Past", until you pointed it out, I hadn't even been consciously aware that I'd done it. I guess our subconscious works in weird ways. 

**Evanescence kicks ass:** I'm so glad you liked chapter 10. I swear to you, 9, 10, 11, and now 12 are practically writing themselves. I hope that stays the case with the rest of the story cause it'll sure make it easier on me. Rewriting The Cure has been in my head for years and I'd almost done it as a stand alone story a couple of times, but then didn't. But it seemed to fit in here just right. I am still not over UXM #390 and will be very angry with Marvel for years to come. 

**Araya-Michiru: **As far as I'm concerned, the second team of X-Men (Storm, Wolverine, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Shadowcat and Rogue) are some of the most interesting character Marvel has ever created. Their backgrounds were so diverse, their personalities very individual, strong, and well defined. It's a real shame that, now, they seem to have gone to the concept that more is better, resulting in hordes of mutants running around everywhere in huge groups with, basically, interchangeable personalities. I miss the days when the group was smaller and easier to keep up with. Peter always intrigued me because, unlike Wolverine, Rogue, and even Kitty, he wasn't a warrior at heart. He was just doing what he thought was right. He was quiet, sometimes shy, and very gentle by nature, though he could, and would, fight with the best of them when he had to. I think Marvel really messed up when they just killed him off. There needs to be a balance for the characters who just want to go out and smash stuff. It's one of the reasons I always thought he and Kitty went so well together. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far, and hope you continue to. There should definitely be more surprises coming. The things that don't seem clear at the moment are meant to be that way and should work themselves out as we go along. At least, that's the plan.

**T.A. Pixiestix:** You really are making me blush! And, believe me, coming from you, it means a lot. I did briefly toy with the idea of Kitty trying to use the Legacy cure on herself and having Peter stop her, but the other way around just rang more true to character for them. At least to my way of thinking. Sorry I didn't get to the final fate of the Legacy cure this chapter. The dynamic duo had plans of their own, apart from the one's I'd made for them, and I couldn't stop them. So, instead of loading up a 50 page chapter I had to break it down into two parts. Again. But I'm determined to cover it in chapter 12. I don't think It's gonna kill off anybody that we love. 

**Kirayoshi: **Yes, I know. Lockheed's death was quite a shock to me as well, but don't give up hope just yet. He's a pretty tough little dragon. You never know when he just might pop back up. Believe me, before this is done, we'll have more than one "dead" character show back up. And to put my name in the same sentence with Buffy and Joss Whedon!! Be still my heart! The only characters on earth that I love as much as Peter and Kitty are Buffy, Willow, Xander and the gang. I'm still in mourning for the series. There are no words to describe my joy and anticipation as I wait to see what Joss Whedon is gonna do with the X-characters, especially Kitty. I literally began dancing around my den when I heard the news. My husband thinks I'm nuts. I can definitely see Kitty as the proto-Buffy. They have much in common personality wise. As for Kitty and Peter, well, they're in a little better place now, but she's still trying to protect him, and everyone else. And she's gotta get outta there and find some answers before this whole thing can be settled once and for all. Glad you're enjoying the story so far and I appreciate the tip on the Buffy fics. I will definitely check those out. 

**Coming Soon:(I hope)** Well, the Night That Wouldn't End, which has lasted for the last 3 chapters, will finally be winding down, but the next day isn't going to be much of an improvement for our favorite band of Mutants as chaos erupts, X-Men start bailing out in droves, we learn the final fate of the Legacy cure (I promise), a strange, and not too happy, visitor drops in, and, heck, we may even take a trip to Genosha.

Thanks for reading. Writers love reviews. It's what we live for and all are welcome, good, bad, or indifferent! How am I gonna get better otherwise?

PS: For any of you interested, who may not be familiar with the comic X-Men, if you haven't come across it already, there's a great X-Men site on the web called uncannyxmen.net. It's maintained by fans and covers just about everything you could ever want to know about everybody's favorite angsty mutant mob. 


	12. The Living and The Dying

**Disclaimer: **X-Men – not mine. But I'm gonna do bad, bad things to 'em. And I'm gonna enjoy it. Even if I'm not making any money off of this.

**Warning: **In this chapter, **someone is going to die.** It will not be graphic or violent, and I don't think it's anyone many of us will miss. But, if that kind of thing upsets you, don't read this. 

And let me apologize in advance to any of you who may be of Jewish descent or of the Jewish faith. I have a feeling I have totally butchered the Kaddish, in both form and usage, but it fit where I needed it to and for what I needed it for.

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**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 12 – The Living and The Dying**

She awoke from a dream of raging fire, blue white flames boxing her in on all sides, the metallic ring of clashing swords, and a book, lying on an altar, light streaming from it's fluttering pages, fully expecting to find the Soulsword floating in front of her, the Bloodstone Amulet in her hand, but none of that happened. 

It was simply dark and, for the briefest moment, Kitty had no idea where she was. Then her senses registered the soft, rhythmic breathing, close to her face, the warmth of another body pressed against her back, the arm curled snugly around her waist, and she remembered.

And it nearly broke her heart all over again. 

The sun wasn't up yet. The skylights above her showed only darkness with a smattering of dim stars, scattered like tiny jewels on a black velvet cloth. There was no moon, no way for her to gauge how long she might have been asleep or how long it would be until sunrise. She only knew it wouldn't be long enough.

It was time to go. Kitty understood that, but the knowledge didn't make it any easier. 

All the things she'd told herself tonight - how they deserved this one night together, that maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and that maybe, just maybe, she might actually be able to beat this thing and come back to him - it all came rushing back on her here, in the quiet dark. 

Such pretty, almost believable, lies. So well crafted she'd almost been able to convince herself. And, for one, brief, instant, she'd been almost normal, almost happy, almost hopeful. Sometimes, pretty lies were all a person had to go on if they wanted to keep going.

She gave herself just a few more minutes, to enjoy the feel of his arm around her, the comfort of his solid, warm body next to her, to remember the few hours of peace, hope, and love they'd shared. The memories they'd made together tonight might very well have to do her for the rest of her life. 

It would have to be enough. She would make it enough. It was more than she'd ever believed she could have to begin with.

When her few minutes were over, Kitty resolutely pushed all the hurt, all the longing, all the regret and tears, down into that little box inside herself, the one she could lock everything away in until she had the time and energy to deal with it. There wasn't time to sort through it all now. Maybe there never would be. 

Right now, she had work to do. So, she shoved everything into that little box, locked it up tight, gave it a good mental shove, and exiled it into a dark little corner of her heart and mind, along with all the other little boxes labeled "To be dealt with at a later date". It was getting pretty crowded in there these days.

With that done, she simply phased herself through the bed, the floor, an empty guest room directly beneath the attic, and on and on until she reached the level she wanted. 

She ended up in a storage closet, without a stitch on, but that didn't particularly bother her. It wasn't very likely she'd run into any of her team mates at this time of night/morning, and her room was only a few doors away.

In only a few seconds, she was inside her own room and she wondered briefly if anyone had been checking either hers, or Peter's room, during the night to see if they reappeared. As she pondered the question, Kitty decided there was very good possibility, especially under the circumstances, that Ororo, at least, and possibly Kurt, Hank, and Cecelia, as well, had been keeping an eye out for one or both of them. 

She wasn't worried about Logan. If he had thought it necessary to find her, he would have tracked her down long before now.

Keeping in mind that one of the others could come by at any time, Kitty quickly gathered up her shower supplies, took the worlds fastest shower, and came back to her room for the last time.

Within fifteen minutes, she'd dressed in her newest fighting gear, arranged her long, still damp, hair into a thick braid down her back, and gathered up her remaining belongings and clothes that she had any interest in, along with her laptop and katanas. It all fit tidily into a couple of duffle bags. She always had been one to travel light.

Going to her desk, she reached down through the wood top into the secret compartment only she knew about and only she could access. It didn't have a door or access panel, just a small, open space within the wood where she kept the very few things that no one else knew she possessed. Not even Logan or Kurt.

Withdrawing her hand, she opened one duffel bag and threw in the credit cards, cash, passports in three different names, from three different countries - all perfectly legitimate - and the little black address book full of names and phone numbers.

Her relationship with Pete Wisdom may not have ended well, but she had reaped several benefits from their association. Never being one to let any opportunity to learn something new pass her by, Kitty had been a willing pupil for anything...well, almost anything...that the ex-Black Air agent had wanted to teach her. As a bonus, she'd made more than one contact within the spy community, most of whom were still active in the field.

She might not need them, but one never really knew what might come in handy where she was going.

That done, she again let the molecules of her body go, slipping through her bedroom floor, floating softly on molecules of air, through level after level, until she hit the garage sub-level.

Landing lightly, soundlessly, on the floor, she made her way through the dark garage to one little-used corner, where a awkward shaped lump sat, waiting patiently. 

Pulling the protective cover off the semi-hidden object, she revealed the little, blood red and chrome Sportster that had been Logan's secret gift to her.

Regarding it fondly, Kitty remembered how Logan had given it to her on her twenty-first birthday, as a surprise. He'd threatened her life if she told Storm he'd gotten it for her, saying that Ororo would skin him alive. And she probably would have. So it had remained their little secret.

It wasn't the monster bike that his big Harley was. It was small, sleek, quick, maneuverable. Right up her alley. 

She hadn't had a lot of time to ride the little motorcycle, but she and it got along very well. They understood each other. They were very much alike, both small, appearing rather unassuming, and perfectly harmless. And they both packed a hell of a punch when the occasion called for it. Looks could be very deceiving.

Settling her two bags onto the rear seat and strapping them to the sissy bar, making sure they were secured properly, Kitty turned and left it for the moment. There were still things to be done before she could leave and time was running short.

Her next stop was the monitor room. It only took her about five minutes to locate and erase all security tapes that showed any parts of her, or her and Peter's, activities during the night. She paid particular attention to the tapes from the medlab, wanting to make sure they were completely and totally destroyed. 

What had happened between her and Peter, what had been said and done, was their business alone. Kitty wasn't about to let Ororo, Hank, Cecelia, or anyone else, pull those tapes and translate what they'd said to one another. Some things were **not** team business, no matter what anyone else thought.

Next, she temporarily disabled security in the Professor's ready room, as well as the medlab, and all the security cameras scattered along the route her last few errands would take her. It was a simple matter. 

After all, Kitty had designed, implemented, and installed nearly all of the security equipment and programs in the entire complex. Surely, they didn't think she wouldn't leave herself a way to bypass them if necessary.

Oh, the cameras would all come back on. Eventually. After she was out and long gone. 

There was no doubt in Kitty's mind that they would be looking for her, considering what she was about to do, but she wasn't going to make it easy for them to find her. Her trail would be one Logan himself would have real trouble following. 

Ghosts don't tend to leave any scents to go by.

Kitty doubted very seriously, however, that he'd even try. At least, not to lead the rest of the X-Men to her, anyway. And she didn't have any illusions that he couldn't find her if he truly wanted to, for his own sake. He'd taught her nearly everything she knew and they thought too much alike.

Once she was done, she made her way to Professor Xavier's personal ready room. Among all the rooms of the mansion, this was the only one not open to, pretty much, anyone and everyone. You only came here by invitation. Normally. But not this time.

Easily phasing herself inside, she went directly to her target, wasting no time in gathering up what she'd come for. The Professor hadn't even bothered to lock them up. She was out again within forty five seconds.

Having stashed the items in one of the duffel bags already strapped onto the little motorcycle, Kitty airwalked back up through the ceiling, making her way quickly into the medlab. 

Luck was with her and she found the main lab empty as she materialized up through the floor. Of course, Hank and Cecelia had moved the Legacy sample out of the main refrigeration unit. Hopefully, they'd destroyed it. If they'd been smart, they'd have destroyed all the samples of the cure.

But they were too predictable and Kitty knew them too well.

They might have moved or done away with the main sample, but they hadn't bothered with the working samples stored in the lab next door. Those were all nice and safely locked up. No one could possibly get to them. Yeah. Right.

Both doctors worked with her every day, had known her for years, watched her walk through walls, slip between worlds, as a matter of course. She could reach her hand into someone's chest and pull out their still-beating heart without leaving a mark. It had apparently never occurred to any of them that the girl who could do all that wouldn't be deterred by a locked refrigerator.

Being very careful, Kitty didn't even disrupt the electronic lock on the cold safe where the samples were stored as she reached in, picked up a vial, and phased it right back out the door of the unit. With any luck at all, they wouldn't even know it was missing until it was all over. 

Even though she knew she was running against the clock, she couldn't help but take a moment to study the small vial of bright pink liquid. 

So much had happened, so many atrocities had been committed in the name of the Legacy virus and this cure. She sincerely hoped what she was about to do might bring an end to some of that. And, perhaps, serve as just a bit of justice for some of those atrocities.

Slipping the vial in her jacket pocket, she left the medlab, floating like a ghost through the dark, silent house. As she followed her route to the next stop, she took a moment to look around this house where she'd spent so much of her life, sacrificed so much of herself, of what she'd wanted, for one man's Dream.

It was truly a beautiful home, all dark, wood paneling, tasteful, expensive carpeting, antiques and expensive knick-knacks scattered all about. But it was also a prison, of sorts. 

Living here, hiding here, in this pretty, pastel fantasy world of wealth, alien technology, faster than light aircraft, awesome power, combat training, and secret missions, the X-Men tended to forget that there was a real world out there. A world where everyone didn't live in a mansion on a huge estate, couldn't call down thunder and lightning, where they had to actually work for a living, where they had jobs, husbands, wives, families, children. Where they had lives. Real ones. 

All the huge mansions, grand estates, money, and technology in the world could never make up for what had been taken away from them, but none of them ever seemed to truly be able to get out, get away from this life, once they got sucked in. 

But Kitty vowed she **would** get out. One way or another.

Reaching her next destination, she phased through the door into Professor Xavier's office. Sitting down at his desk, she pulled out a pen and paper and began to write.

  
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Peter was still fast asleep when she returned to the attic a short time later. Even with everything she'd done, Kitty had only been gone little more than an hour. That's all it had taken to pack up her life here.

Outside, the barest hint of dawn was just breaking over the horizon, casting a pale, pinkish yellow, glow to the early morning sky, where the stars still lingered stubbornly, as if unwilling to relinquish their foothold on the heavens.

Kitty could barely make out the curve of his jaw as she looked down to where he lay, but her heart yearned for him. Everything in her screamed at her to stay, to climb back into his arms and let everything else go directly to hell. 

The only problem was, she had every idea that's exactly what would happen if she stayed here. They would all end up in hell. Literally.

No, she told herself firmly, the choice had already been made. She had to go. But that didn't make it any easier, or hurt any less. When she walked out of this place a few minutes from now, it would be for the very last time. Whatever came, Kitty never intended to set foot in this house again. Her time here was done.

Her fondest hope, the only real hope she had left, was that Peter would get out of here as well, go somewhere and make a life for himself apart from the X-Men. Maybe go back to his art. 

Once, he'd had a life as Peter Nicholas, he'd been a successful artist. Charles Xavier had destroyed that. Maybe the reason had been sound. Maybe the Professor had been telling the truth when he'd said there was no other choice. Kitty hoped fervently that he had been, but she also had her doubts.

There was just too much that didn't add up, too many times when one or another of them had tried to leave, have normal lives, only to be forcibly pulled back in due to some "emergency" or another. It seemed that, like the mob, the only way out was death.

And, hell, around here, even that was no guarantee.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Kitty reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out three envelopes, laying them on her pillow, beside where Peter's head rested, where she knew he would find them. 

One was addressed to Kurt, one to Logan, and one to Peter. In Kurt's, she'd said good-bye to the man who'd been like a brother to her. In Logan's, she'd left instructions on where he could pick up her little Sportster and a few messages for him to pass on to some of the other X-Men. 

She hadn't bid him good-bye. He would understand what he meant to her and those kinds of words between them were unnecessary.

In Peter's, she'd poured out her feelings for him, her heart and soul, holding nothing back. She'd explained, as best she was able without being too specific, why she would probably never see him again. And she'd made one final request of him. Kitty hoped he'd be able to grant it. For his sake as well as her own.

Without even thinking about it, her hand reached out to touch him, her fingertips skimming his tousled hair for just a moment, letting the sable strands slip through her fingers. Just as her life seemed to have slipped from her grasp. 

By sheer force of will, Kitty tamped down the raging grief, the heartrending sense of loss, the final shattering of every dream she'd ever had. There would be more than enough time to grieve later, and more than enough to grieve for.

Now, she had one final task to perform before she left this life far behind, one final loose end to tie up so that it could cause no further harm.

Kneeling down, Kitty pulled the big, round hatbox from under the bed. She wasn't taking it with her. Couldn't even if she wanted to. But there were a few things she had to take. 

Opening it up, she easily found what she needed, even in the near darkness of the room. 

She put the diary in her other jacket pocket, along with the copy of the first diary she'd found. They were bulky, but not unmanageable and she would transfer them to one of the duffle bags as soon as she got back down to the garage.

The Kinross crown she held in her hands for a few moments, watching as it almost glowed in the twilight of the attic room.

With only the smallest hesitation, she fit it onto her brow, as she'd done that night so many years, almost a lifetime, ago. It sat there as if it were made for her.

_**I may not have ever officially been Lady to the Laird of Kinross, and you may not be with me, Alisdhair, but I'm definitely about to ride into battle. Somehow, I think you'd approve.**_

Sliding the box back under the edge of the dust ruffle, Kitty turned back toward the bed, her heart clenching painfully as she took one last look at the man she loved, before phasing through the floor and disappearing.

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Standing in the shadows of one of the large oaks ringing the perimeter of the estate, Logan drew the early morning air into his lungs slowly, savoring the cool feel of it, the fresh, clean scent. 

It had been a very long night and the house, large as it was, had simply become too confining. There were times when it was like that, days and nights when the place felt more like a cage than a home. Lately, those feelings seemed to come more and more frequently. 

During those times, he tended to ask himself what the hell had ever possessed him to join up with this spandex circus in the first place. But he already knew the answer to that one. 

All he had to do was take a look at Kit, or Jubes, think about what Ol' One Eye or the Weather Goddess or Charlie woulda made outta them, if he hadn't been around, and Logan had his answer. Somebody had to be the common sense, the cold voice of reality and reason. Somebody had to keep things grounded.

Funny it would turn out to be the one everybody considered the psycho of the bunch.

Pulling out his lighter, the flame flared briefly as he touched it to the end of his stogie, inhaling deeply, savoring the slightly bitter, slightly sweet flavor of the tobacco as it filled his lungs, mingled with the fresh, morning air, before puffing it out in one long, white cloud.

The damn place was gonna be in an uproar as soon as everybody pulled their carcasses outta bed. Hell, it had been that way last night till all ungodly hours.

'Ro had given him all flavors of hell at that damn club for letting Kit take off, but he wasn't a bit sorry. She never would understand the girl, not really. If she did, she wouldn't be wondering why he'd let her go.

Then, they'd got back here and found Hank and Cecelia fit to be tied, but they hadn't been able to get any details outta them. All he knew was that they'd been looking for Kit and Petey, just like every-damned-body else.

Made him really wonder what those two had done once they'd got back here, and he hoped it wasn't something he was gonna have to make Peter answer for later. They'd been down that road once before, years ago. Logan didn't particularly want to travel it again.

Besides, he had every idea that, whatever had happened earlier in the night, the two kids had managed to work at least some of it out themselves, as he'd hoped they would. But he also hoped Kitty hadn't let her emotions and hormones get ahead of her brain and done something she'd regret later.

Almost automatically, Logan's dark eyes shifted to the west wing of the mansion, his gaze hovering briefly on the roof line of the attic. 

He coulda told them exactly where to find Kit and Pete, but he figured, if they wanted to be found, they'd have told somebody where they were going. He sure as hell couldn't blame them for wanting a little privacy.

They were both adults, had been for quite a while, and whatever they did behind closed doors was their business. As long as it was consensual, Logan wouldn't interfere. He just didn't want to see Kitty hurt again. And those two didn't seem to be able to do much else but hurt each other when they were together.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

The sound of a motorcycle engine revving up caught his attention, causing his head to jerk up reflexively, dragging him out of his thoughts, as it carried on the still morning air.

His sharp ears immediately honed in on the source and he turned as the little red Sportster shot down the driveway and out the front gate, the tires screeching as it made the sharp turn onto Greymalkin Lane, headed in the general direction of the city.

"What th' flamin'...!?"

Throwing his cigar down, Logan stared at the spot where the little bike had disappeared from sight, briefly torn on whether or not to try and follow it. 

In the end, he decided to let her go. If there was trouble, well, she was a big girl. If she'd wanted him to know, she woulda told him. And if she didn't, even he couldn't force it out of her. 

In that way, she was like him. Sometimes she had to learn the hard way to ask for help when she needed it, but she'd do her damnedest to handle things herself until she didn't have any other choice.

He really, truly, hoped she knew what she was doing. But something, some sense he couldn't define, told him that trouble was coming. 

With a sigh, Logan jammed his hands into his coat pockets and turned toward the house, dreading what he knew would be a hell of an uproar before the morning was over.

The feral mutant spared one last glance toward the west wing attic, a sardonic smile crossing his face briefly before disappearing.

If Petey was a smart man, he'd get up and get the hell outta Dodge, too, while he still could.

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It was barely dawn when Peter woke. As soon as he was semi-conscious, before he even opened his eyes, he knew she was gone. Not just from the bed. Not just from the room or the house. But from his life.

The knowledge was like a lead weight in his heart, weighing him down, making it hard for him to breathe, but he found that it wasn't a surprise. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he'd known this was how it would end. Even as he'd held her, made love to her, he had known she wouldn't be here when he woke up.

It didn't ease the hurt at all.

He opened his eyes and sat up, looking around the room. Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. 

Everything was exactly as it had been when he'd gone to sleep. Except that Kitty was gone. And that changed everything.

Turning to slip out of bed, he noticed the envelopes on her pillow. Picking them up, he read the names on each one, written in her neat, efficient script. 

No embellishments. No little curly spirals, or I's dotted with little hearts, or any of the dozen little cutesy things most girls did in their writing.

Just tidy, no nonsense, easily read handwriting. Straight forward and to the point. Just like Kitty.

Setting the other two envelopes aside, he opened the one addressed to him. Inside were three pieces of Xavier School stationary, filled with her words. He read each one, then went back and read them all again. He didn't even try to stop the tears that ran silently down his face as he dropped his head into his hands, sitting on the edge of the bed and wishing, as he'd never wished for anything before, that he had the ability to turn back time.

Afterwards, his countenance set, mind made up, he folded the letter up and put it back into it's envelope before laying it with the other two.

He stood, picked up the pile of clothes on the floor, hers and his, folded Kitty's into a neat stack and put his own back on. 

That's when he noticed that the box of pictures was still under the edge of the bed, peeking out from beneath the of the dust ruffle. Pulling it out, he set it on the little desk and opened it up. He immediately noticed what items were missing, as he'd somehow already known they would be.

Closing the hatbox back up, he put it on top of the stack of her clothes, picked it all, along with the letters, up and headed downstairs to his own room.

He had a lot of things to do this morning. It was past time to get started.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Hank McCoy yawned widely as he entered the medlab. Despite the fact that he'd, for once, gone to his own room for the night - instead of falling asleep over his microscope, as he was prone to do - he'd slept very little.

The events of the previous night kept replaying themselves over and over in his head, a bad movie reel stuck in a continuous loop. It hadn't exactly been the most pleasant way to spend the hours he should have been sleeping. 

The large, blue furred man had faced many dangers in his time, had looked death in the face and, basically, laughed at it, over and over again. But never, in all his time with the X-Men, the Avengers, X-Factor, or any other team he'd ever been a part of, had he ever been as bone deep, overwhelmingly, and completely terrified as he had been last night, watching two young people he was exceedingly fond of play out a life and death scenario while he could only stand by helplessly, waiting. 

At first, with Cecelia flying down the hall, screaming for him in a blind panic and dragging him, along with most of their resuscitation equipment, back to the main medlab and into that nightmarish scene, Hank hadn't been sure just exactly which one of the two people involved was actually trying to use the serum on themselves. 

From the body language, the tone of voice, he would have almost placed a bet that it had been Kitty. It wouldn't have really surprised him, given her behavior of late. Hank knew things with her were far from normal, no matter what she claimed, and he had cursed himself for leaving that sample in the main cold storage unit, where it was easily accessible, in the first place. 

But, he'd finally figured out that it was, instead, Peter who was holding the syringe, and that had almost been worse. His blood had run absolutely cold, remembering the young man's sister, how she'd died of this virus. How Peter had shut himself off from the world, and everything in it, for a time, unwilling to talk to anyone, listen to anyone, becoming someone that none of them even knew.

It had given him several very bad moments, as he wondered if even Kitty could talk the young Russian out of what he'd been about to do. She certainly hadn't been able to talk him out of running off to Avalon with Magneto during Illyana's funeral. The horrible thought had even crossed his mind, albeit briefly, that, instead of talking him out of it, Kitty might just join him. When Peter had finally turned the syringe over to Kitty, and she had, in turn, handed it to Hank, his relief had been too immense to measure. 

Right now, he would give nearly anything to know exactly what she'd said to him during that time, exactly how she'd managed to get him to cooperate, but they'd been speaking in Russian, and he didn't know the language. Directly afterwards, Kitty had disappeared to parts unknown, with Peter not far behind her, neither giving him or Cecelia any chance to ask even the most basic questions.

Hank would have felt much, much better about the whole thing if Peter had remained in the medlab, at least overnight. But, even the large, blue, powerful Beast couldn't force a seven foot tall, five hundred pound, organic metal mutant to do something he didn't want to do. And, considering Peter's mood at the time, Henry McCoy wasn't about to pick that particular juncture to start trying.

It bothered him immensely, though, that neither Shadowcat nor Colossus had shown back up at all, either last night or so far this morning. Their beds hadn't been slept in and no trace of them could be found in any of the common rooms or the training facilities. 

The doctor was sincerely hoping that they'd simply gone somewhere to talk things out in private, but there was still that little, niggling doubt lingering in the back of his mind. He'd feel much better once they were located and proven to be safe.

As he made his way into the smaller lab, the one they used primarily for Legacy research, Hank was telling himself that he'd have to remember to pull the security tapes from last night if the two missing X-Men didn't show back up soon. Maybe those could tell them where they had gone.

Because his mind wasn't on the task at hand, as he automatically punched in the code that opened the electronic lock on the secure cold storage unit, reaching in for one of the several samples they kept on hand, Hank almost didn't register the absence of one of the vials of Legacy cure they were using for research.

He'd almost closed the refrigeration unit's door again when it hit him. One paw reached out and snagged the door before it could fully close and he forced himself to concentrate, not to panic, remain calm, as he counted the number of vials. 

By the sixth time he'd recounted everything, the sickening realization had finally settled on him irrevocably. There was a vial missing. No mistake. No doubt. It had been there last night and, now, it was gone.

He'd made an exact count last night before locking everything up. He knew exactly how many there should have been. But, this morning, they were one vial short.

Besides himself, there was only one other person who had the combination to the cold storage safe and Cecelia was still in bed, hadn't even got up yet. And she'd retired before him last night. Besides that, she never worked on the Legacy virus or cure without him present. He was the biologist, she was the trauma doctor. Hank knew there was no chance she'd taken one of the vials out for some purpose or other before he got here.

The good doctor also knew that the storage unit had definitely been locked since they'd left last night. There was no sign of forced entry anywhere, nothing else had been disturbed. There was only the one vial missing. And there was only one person who could have taken it and left no evidence to indicate anything had happened.

"Oh, dear God, no." Henry McCoy wasn't even aware that he'd spoken aloud. His mind was racing, showing him all the horrible, heartbreaking consequences that this might bring them, all of it in Technicolor and perfect in the most minute detail.

If he'd had time, he would have thrown up, passed out, screamed in panic at the top of his lungs, any and all of the above. But he didn't have that luxury.

With a swiftness born of pure, unadulterated, blind terror, Beast flew out of the medlab, sending up an alarm that rang through the entire mansion, immediately rousing everyone from their beds and throwing them automatically into defensive mode.

Dr. McCoy had only one thing on his mind. They had to find Katherine Pryde and Peter Rasputin. And they had to find them **now.**

***********************************************************************************************************************

Morning had broken, clear and shining and new, by the time Kitty pulled the little Harley into an empty parking space in the lot of an already crowded , chain grocery store. 

Switching off, she removed her helmet, put the keys in one pocket, dropped the kickstand, and left the motorcycle as she briskly made her way down a narrow alley between the market and it's neighboring business.

Re-emerging onto a side street, she turned left, traveling several blocks as traffic thinned and the streets opened up, shopping centers and strip malls giving way to occasional single business spaces and, finally, to open fields, trees, a house dotting the landscape here and there. 

No one paid her much attention. She looked like any normal, teenage girl, probably on her way to school. Sometimes, the ability to look younger than you really were had it advantages.

In the end, she walked several miles before reaching her destination, but she wasn't tired in the least. Her adrenaline was pumping and she was impatient to be done with this last task.

As the low, sprawling complex came into view, Kitty ignored the little voice in her head that kept asking her if she really knew what she was doing. Her mind was made up. Her course was set. She would not turn back now.

Any time she even considered it, she let herself see that boatload of dead people, Moira's broken, torn body, Rhane, grieving for her mother, stripped of her powers, and – most effective of all – her imaginations vivid image of Peter's dead body, sprawled out on the medlab floor.

If anything could shore up her determination, should it begin to wane, it was those images.

The entire area was completely enclosed in ten foot high chain link, razor wire curling around the top, guard houses sitting, like tall, silent judges, at intervals all around the perimeter fence. There would be guards in those towers, as well, watching the buildings and surrounding yard. But none of that presented even the smallest challenge to someone of her abilities. 

With the merest thought, Kitty sank into the earth, making her way underground until she was fairly sure she was far enough away that the guards wouldn't spot her as she re-emerged.

She came up just in back of the huge prison complex. Looking around for a moment, Kitty got her bearings and turned to her right, phasing through a wall just enough to check and make sure there wasn't anyone in the immediate area.

When she was satisfied that the coast was clear, she walked through the wall and into the deserted hallway. 

Kitty knew exactly where she was. She'd studied the blueprints for this place in great detail before she'd left Westchester. It should be a simple matter to find the section she was looking for, do what she'd come to do, and go back out the way she'd come in.

There were probably security cameras, but there wasn't anything she could do about them and, most likely, by the time any kind of alarm was raised, she'd be long gone.

Walking on air, a few inches above the floor, so as not to make any sound, Kitty moved steadily toward her destination, taking in her surroundings as she went and shaking her head in disgust.

Why they'd chosen to bring her here, she'd never know. It was too low tech, not nearly high-security enough. Either they were idiots, or someone wanted her to escape. If she were a betting woman, Kitty would put her money on the latter.

Just another good reason for what she was about to do.

Within a few moments, Kitty entered the hospital wing of the prison and phased herself into the nearest wall as an orderly shuffled slowly by, pushing a cart full of medical supplies. 

This would be a little trickier. There were more people here. It would be harder to avoid encountering anyone, but she could still do it. It wasn't anything she hadn't been expecting.

Thankfully, it was still very early and most of the patients were asleep. As a result, none of them really noticed the young woman walking through the walls, from one room to another, until she reached the one she wanted.

As she stepped out of the wall and into the small, single patient, room near the end of the hall, Kitty saw her, sleeping peacefully, lying in the hospital bed a few feet away. 

After all she had done, all the horrible acts she'd performed, all the lives she'd destroyed, Katherine Pryde wondered how in the hell Raven Darkholme could possibly sleep so soundly, so untroubled, as if she were the most innocent soul on the face of the earth. It was obscene.

But it was just as well that she was asleep. It would make what Kitty had come to do that much easier. Mystique wouldn't even know what had happened to her, until it was far too late. It was a much kinder fate than most of the assassins victims had been granted.

Walking as quietly as possible, Kitty went to the bank of cabinets built into one wall of the room. It only took her a second to find what she was looking for.

The box of syringes was right there, within easy reach, as Kitty had known it would be. Hospitals didn't tend to lock up things like syringes, gloves, swabs, and other much-used items. It was just too inconvenient. And, really, what harm could someone do with an empty syringe?

Pulling the vial from her jacket pocket, Kitty removed the syringe from it's sterile wrapping, pulled the protective cap from the needle and drew the sample of the Legacy cure, watching as the viscous liquid ran slowly through the slim needle, filling the 5 cc plastic syringe.

As she approached the bed, Kitty allowed herself a small, humorless, smile. They'd made it so very easy for her. She wouldn't even have to inject the shape shifter directly. 

Mystique was still attached to an IV drip, complete with it's own little attachment that allowed for syringe injections directly into the IV line. How very accommodating of them. How very nice and convenient. It was almost as if fate was giving it's approval for what she was about to do.

Raven, she noticed, looked much better than the last time she'd seen her. She was off the ventilator and all those minor cuts and bruises seemed to have healed very nicely. But, then, the mutant terrorist always had managed to come out of nearly everything virtually unscathed. 

Too bad the same couldn't be said for her victims.

As she lifted her hand, holding the syringe securely between her index and middle finger, thumb on the plunger, Kitty prepared to inject it into the IV feed. In just a few moments, it would all be over. Justice would, at last, be served. 

But, as her hand neared it's target, as it was only millimeters from it's goal, a strange thing happened. Kitty trembled, hesitated, still looking down at the still, peaceful form, her blue skin and red hair standing out in bright contrast to the stark, white sheets.

Suddenly, all the doubts she'd had, the one's she'd so carefully locked away, ignored, pretended didn't exist, came crashing back to the fore. Kitty had been determined to remain numb, emotionless, but, when faced with actually doing what she'd planned, she found that she wasn't sure she could.

Gritting her teeth in determination, she tried to force her hand to move, her fingers to slide the needle into the rubber cap over the IV's access tube, but it wouldn't budge. Her own body was rebelling against her, her mind racing, thoughts jumbled, tangled, confused.

Was she doing the right thing? Was Mystique truly evil? Or was she simply misguided, a little unbalanced, driven near madness by the cryptic information in Irene Adler's diaries? And, even if she was just plain evil, did she, Kitty, have the right to pass final judgment on this woman, regardless of what she'd done, the crimes she'd committed?

This was Kurt's mother, Rogue's foster mother. Though, how Mystique could have ever given birth to someone as kind, as sweet, as **good, **as Kurt Wagner, or raised someone as, down to earth, loyal, and basically loving as Rogue, Kitty would never know. 

What would her death do to them? Would they grieve for her? Or would they be glad she was gone? More than once, the woman lying in this bed had tried to kill both Rogue and Kurt, not to mention the rest of the X-Men, and God alone knew how many innocent bystanders.

Kitty's face hardened at the thought, her resolve returning. Raven Darkholme deserved to die. Once and for all, the woman should be held accountable for her crimes and have to pay the consequences. It was right. It was fitting. It was justice.

Wasn't it?

What she was about to do went against everything Kitty had been taught as an X-Man, everything that she'd once believed in. Everything she still believed in, if she'd admit the truth. It went against everything she was to kill without provocation. In cold blood.

Up until this moment, she'd blocked everything else from her mind, save the task at hand, but those blocks were crumbling now that she stood at the threshold, so very near crossing the final line. But would she be able to take that final step? And, if she did, what did that say about Katherine Pryde, about Shadowcat?

She'd killed before, in self defense, to save her own life or the life of a friend, a team mate. But she'd never killed someone in cold blood. And, despite her earlier resolve, she wasn't sure she'd be able to do it now.

Yes, this woman was a criminal, a terrorist, a mass murderer. A prime example of the type of mutant that had caused the current public hysteria and panicked fear of all mutants. People like Raven were the reason Kitty couldn't have the normal life she wanted. Mutants like Mystique were why the X-Men ever had to be brought into existence in the first place.

But, still, did she deserve to die for that? Especially by Kitty's hand? Even in order to cure this horrible disease? She'd thought the answer was yes, but now, she honestly didn't know anymore. Kitty had been so sure, so positive, that this was right. But was it? Really?

And, in the end, the only answer she could come up with was no.

There was another way, Kitty thought as she looked down at herself. Just one little injection, in the arm, the leg, where ever. It wouldn't really matter. Then, she could just let go, let her molecules separate, spread out. Let the cure do it's work. It would all be over in a moment.

No more pain. No more fighting. She wouldn't have to worry about the Soulsword, about her friends, about Peter. About her soul being damned for all eternity.

If she killed Mystique, then Kitty was no better than the woman she was trying to stop. But Legacy **had** to be stopped. Peter had been right about one thing. One life was nothing in the face of thousands upon thousands who were dying horribly, one by one. It couldn't be allowed to continue.

She couldn't kill Mystique. Not like this. If she did, then the Soulsword would win and she would surely damn herself. As it was now, Kitty was still Kitty. Her soul, her mind, was her own. That might not hold true later.

There really was only one answer. There had only ever been one answer. She just hadn't wanted to see it, didn't want to admit it. 

Like the little girl she used to be, she'd wanted to believe in the fairy tale, that there would be a happy ending when it was all over. But the woman she was now knew better. 

Closing her eyes, making her decision, Kitty raised her face and sent up a silent, heartfelt, prayer. Normally, it would be recited by relatives, friends, mourners, but she didn't think God would mind, just this once, since there was no one to do it for her.

Unaware that she was speaking aloud, Kitty whispered the words quietly, her lips moving automatically, even as she translated everything into English in her head.

"Yisgadal v'yiskadash sh'mei rabbaw...." **_May His great Name grow exhalted and sanctified...._**

"...b'allmaw dee v'raw chir'usei." **_...in the world that He created as He willed._**

"V'yamlich malchusei,b'chayeichon, uv'yomeichon,..." **_May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days..._**

"Uv'chayei d'chol beis yisroel,..." **_...and in the lifetimes of the entire Family of Israel,...._**

"...ba'agawlaw u'vizman kawriv." **_...swiftly and soon._**

"Y'hei sh'mei rabbaw m'vawrach l'allam u'l'allmei allmayaw." **_May His great Name be blessed forever and ever._**

"Yis'bawrach, v'yishtabach, v'yispaw'ar, v'yisromam, v'yis'nasei,..." **_Blessed, praised, glorified, exaulted, extolled,..._**

"...v'yis'hadar, v'yis,aleh, v'yis'halawl sh'mei d'kudshaw b'rich hu..." **_...mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name of the Holy One, Blessed is He..._**

"...l'aylaw min kol birchawsaw v'shirawsaw,..." **_...beyond any blessing and song,..._**

"...t'ush'bchawsaw v'nechemawsaw, da'ami'rawn b'all'maw." **_...praise and consolation that are uttered in the world._**

"Y'hei shlawmaw rabbaw min sh'mayaw, v'chayim..." **_May there be abundant peace from Heaven, and life..._**

"...awleinu v'al kol yisroel." **_...upon us and upon all Israel._**

"Oseh shawlom bim'ro'mawv, hu ya'aseh shawlom,..." **_He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace,..._**

"...awleinu v'al kol yisroel. Amein." **_...upon us and upon all Israel. Amen._**

"I didn't realize you were Jewish."

At the almost mocking words, spoken in a low, rough voice, Kitty's eyes snapped open and she whirled toward the bed, finding a set of glowing, yellow, pupil-less eyes looking back at her unabashedly.

"Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Mystique." Kitty stared back impassively, trying not to let her surprise show. So what if the woman was awake? It didn't change anything. Except maybe for the fact that Raven could tell them what happened to her. She supposed her friends deserved at least that.

"I'm sure." the shape shifter replied flatly, her eyes unblinking as she studied Kitty, taking in the syringe the younger woman was holding in her hand. "If you're saying Kaddish for me, don't bother. Just do what you came here for. I don't think God's going to really be much of a factor in my afterlife." Sitting up a little, she nodded toward the Legacy cure. "That what you were going to use?"

"That was the plan." Hostility crackled between the two women, so thick it was almost palpable. "But, no, I wasn't saying Kaddish for you."

"Oh? Who then? I don't see anyone else in here." When Kitty didn't answer, just stared back defiantly, Mystique's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "For yourself? Well, well. That's a kicker. Would you like me to say it for you? I don't think you're really supposed to do it for yourself."

The young ninja's only visible reaction was the sudden fire that leapt into her eyes at Raven's disdainful, mocking words. She refused to give the other woman the satisfaction of losing her temper. "Don't do me any favors, Raven."

"What is that, anyway?" Her attention dropped once more to the syringe of bright pink liquid as Kitty automatically followed the other woman's gaze.

"Cure for Legacy."

Raven simply nodded, unsurprised. "I figured as much. Didn't think it would take McCoy and Xavier long to figure it out. It's a bitch, though, ain't it?"

Dear God, the woman was actually smiling. Kitty could only shake her head in appalled wonder. She'd known Raven Darkholme was a psychotic sociopath, but apparently she was also a raving lunatic. In the scariest, most dangerous, sense of the word.

"If you mean that somebody has to die for it to work, then yeah, it is."

"And, I'm guessing your plan was for me to be that somebody?" When Kitty nodded, Raven shook her head, almost looking disappointed. "What changed your mind, girl? You could have done it and been out of here before anybody was the wiser. I'd have been dead the first time I tried to shift and wouldn't even have known what hit me."

"Because," Kitty began, her face hardening as she the older woman coldly. "if I'd done that, I wouldn't be any better than you. And I'd rather die than become what you are." 

For long, seemingly endless, moments, Mystique just stared at the young woman before her, seeming to consider her words. Then, surprisingly, her expression seemed to soften slightly and she held out her hand toward Kitty.

"Hand it over, Shadowcat." When Kitty's hand only tightened it's grip on the syringe, Mystiques sighed in exasperation. "Look, Kitty. I'm not going to attack you with it, if that's what you're thinking. If I wanted you dead, I'd just let you go ahead and do what you planned. I could have just pretended to be asleep."

"What do you want it for, then?" Kitty asked suspiciously, watching the other woman carefully. "And why would you give a damn whether I use this on myself or not?"

Instead of answering Kitty's questions, Mystique threw out one of her own. One that the younger woman certainly hadn't been expecting. One that had her staring at Mystique in confusion.

"How's Rogue? And...Kurt?" 

The sudden hesitancy, the hint of pain and regret in Raven's voice had Kitty blinking at her. Taken aback by the unexpected questions, and the raw emotions behind them, she was unable to speak for a moment, surprised by the sudden shift in the woman's attitude.

"They're...." Kitty swallowed and tried again. "They're ok. Fine."

Mystique nodded, exhaling heavily, still looking at Kitty with those burning, yellow eyes, so much like Kurt's. "Rogue recovered ok? No permanent damage?" 

Kitty didn't have to ask what she meant. They both knew exactly what she was talking about. Pretending would just be silly. "Yeah. She was mostly healed by the time she got back to Westchester. There's not even a scar now."

"Good." The shape shifter again held out her hand, pinning Kitty with a stern look, reminding the younger mutant of how her mother used to look at her when she was trying her patience. "Now, come on. Give me the syringe. You've got more important things waiting for you. You can't waste your life on this damn cure."

Still suspicious of the mutant terrorist, Kitty hesitated, trying to read the motive Mystique was trying to keep hidden behind those glowing eyes. "Like I said, why do you care what I do? And I'm sure as hell not going to trust you with this." She waved the syringe in the air like a battle flag. "God only knows what you'd do with it. I won't be responsible for you hurting anyone else."

"No. I know you won't." Mystique replied softly. "And, really, it doesn't matter to me what you do. I couldn't care less." Leaning forward in the bed, Raven Darkholme pinned Kitty Pryde with a dark, serious look. "But Irene cared what happened to you. You were important to her, though I can't imagine why. And that does matter to me. I don't know what's ahead for you, girl, but I know it's something important. So, give me the damned syringe, get the hell out of here, and leave me to what little chance at redemption I might have left."

Her teeth worrying her bottom lip, Kitty stared at Raven a moment longer, indecision warring in her eyes, across her face, before slowly stretching out her hand, dropping the syringe into Mystiques open palm. The two women exchanged a look that spoke louder than any words on earth ever could and, for one, brief second, Kitty's pale hand curled tightly around Raven's dark blue one. To her surprise, Mystique gently returned the gesture.

Without another word to one another, the moment ended and Kitty turned to go, intending to phase out the back wall. Just as she was about to step through, Raven called out to her one last time.

"Hey, Pryde..."

Kitty stopped, turned back, and found Mystiques looking at her, the older woman's expression somewhere between a smirk and the saddest smile Kitty had ever seen.

"If you feel like saying Kaddish for me, I won't object." She shrugged lightly. "Can't hurt. And, who knows, it might just help a little."

Closing her eyes briefly, Kitty nodded, then turned and walked out through the wall without looking back.

Raven waited until Shadowcat was well gone, giving her plenty of time to get out of the complex. When she was sure enough time had passed, she leaned over and injected the Legacy cure into her IV, watching the almost fluorescent pink liquid make it's way through the little plastic tube and into her veins. When it was done, she lay back, her face serene as she felt the first tingle that signaled the serum entering her body. 

She let it build up, almost able to feel the interaction of the chemicals with her mutant DNA. As soon as she felt sufficient time had lapsed for the serum to take hold, Mystique smiled, willing her form shift, releasing the Legacy cure into the atmosphere.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Back in the grocery store parking lot, Kitty sat on her little red Sportster, silently, sincerely, reciting the Jewish prayer of mourning, the Kaddish. 

If anyone had taken a close look at the young woman, they would have noticed the tears streaming, unchecked, down her face. Today, Katherine Pryde had learned a hard, bitter, yet somehow comforting, lesson in atonement, the indomitable human spirit, and the souls undeniable need for redemption.

Now, she intoned the prayer, meaning every word, as she never had before and possibly never would again. And the young mutant shed tears of sorrow, and of joy, for a woman that, until today, Kitty would never have believed worthy of them.

***********************************************************************************************************************

On the front lawn of the Xavier mansion, oblivious to the chaos that reigned within the large house, sparkling bubbles of light appeared, dancing in the air as they changed colors, from blue to green to red and back again, shimmering jewels sparkling in the early morning light before slowly fading away. 

It was a lovely sight and quite at odds with everything else that was happening in the mutant world that clear, cool morning. Especially considering the emotional storm raging within the venerable estate. 

The bubbles multiplied, other colors adding to the mix, as a wide circle of light appeared for a moment. Slowly, a figure emerged from the circle, cloaked in a long robe and hood, features completely hidden, which was just as well.

Had anyone been able to see the expression on the face within, it would have sent them diving for the nearest cover. The occupants of Professor Charles Xavier's "School" were not the only ones who'd had an abysmal night and morning.

For a moment, the figure stood, hands on hips, feet spread apart, studying the huge house that dominated the landscape.

This was not going to be pleasant. God alone knew what kind of reaction to expect from these people once they heard this news. In truth, the visitor wasn't sure exactly how to react either. It was all quite a mess and would probably only get worse before it got better.

**_With any luck, maybe they won't shoot the messenger._** **_But, it's not like I've got a lot of choices here._**

Heaving a weary sigh and wondering what else could possibly go wrong today, the figure resolutely strode toward the huge house.

Regardless of the X-Men's reaction, someone within had some serious explaining to do.

***********************************************************************************************************************

**A/N:** Ok, before we get to the reviewers, let me just say that this is **not** how this chapter was originally supposed to go. I hate Mystique. I hate her with a burning passion that will not die. In my outline, it states very clearly that Kitty goes into that hospital and injects Raven Darkholme with the Legacy cure, killing her dead, dead, dead. It was supposed to be a vengeance thing. Kitty was not supposed to feel sorry for her and she was not supposed to have doubts about what she was doing. Except, when I was trying to write it out like that, Kitty absolutely refused to do it. No matter what I tried, it would not work. And I realized that I was trying to get her to do something that would have been out of character for her, unless she were totally insane. And I don't think she's quite that far gone yet. So, instead of having the pleasure of killing Mystique, the damn woman gets to be a martyr and ends up being a more sympathetic character. Go figure. I still hate her, though.

**Now, On to my wonderful reviewers: **Guys, there's just no way for me to tell you how much I appreciate your encouragement and enthusiasm for this fic. You make me want to write faster. 

**T.A. Pixiestix:** Yes, they made up. Sorta. Kitty's still obsessing, though, about the whole Soulsword thing, as you've already seen. As for the cliffhanger, well, you might have to wait another chapter or so before we really begin to really find out what's going on with the Phoenix and the book, and the two people connected to them. But, on the bright side, we're done with the Legacy cure, now. I'm thrilled that you're enjoying the story and I hope your friend is too. I'm writing like a madwoman here, so, hopefully, updates will be pretty frequent.

**Caliente: **Trust me, we are all confuzzled by some of this time traveling crap our favorite mutants seem to always be falling into. But that particular episode ties into this story in several ways, some of which will be revealed later. As for Kitty's virginity, well, that's a matter for debate. Warren Ellis pretty much had her giving it up to Pete Wisdom. But Chris Claremont, who despises Warren Ellis, says that she's still a virgin. Soooo, take your pick, I guess. For the purposes of this story, I required her to still be a virgin. As for the other confusing issues, well, they may actually get more confusing, but things should start falling into place shortly and in pretty quick succession once we get going. Now, I know it wasn't as much as you wanted, but you did catch Amanda in this chapter, didn't you? Definitely much more Amanda, and Kurt, and Logan next chapter.

**Kirayoshi: **I'm so glad you liked chapter 11. It was actually one of the tougher ones for me to write because I wanted it to be just right. Personally, I think it's way past time that Marvel let some of it's younger characters grow up just a little. I mean, please. Kitty can't be thirteen forever. Now, don't think that Kitty's going to have to fight her demons all by herself. Before it's over, she'll have all kinds of help, some of it from the people you'd normally expect, but there'll be some help really coming out of left field. I have a particular fondness for one obscure character who'll show up a few chapters from now. And, don't worry, I'm a sap too. Originally, Kitty and Peter were not supposed to make up before she took off, but they really, really wanted to and I couldn't stop them. It's really pathetic when you're being bossed around by fictional characters. BTW, Mad-Hamlets stories are really great and I don't mind Buffy/Willow pairings. Like you said, anything is better than Buffy having undying love for Spike. 

**Lia Fail:** Yaaay! I get a No Prize!! I hate it when writers leave all kinds of loose ends lying around with no explanation. It drives me nuts. As does the "Lets make all the characters between 13 and 16 for the rest of their lives" thing. Yes, I think you're right. At one point, I think they had Kitty younger than Jubes, which is just so very wrong. And wouldn't that make her relationship with Pete Wisdom a little on the sick side? It drives me nuts and I also think it insults the readers intelligence. Do they really expect us to believe that the X-Men have had all these adventures in two or three years?? When would they have time to eat or sleep?? They would have all died of exhaustion by now. Or committed suicide. God knows, I would have. As for Phoenix, that was definitely it. And who knows what that lovely cosmic entity may have up it's wing. And the mystery of Destiny's diaries shall also be revealed in time. I wasn't crazy about how they just suddenly dropped that story line in XXM either. That was the teams whole purpose and then they just decide they don't need to look anymore. It was kinda lame. As for how I write so fast....Well, what else am I gonna do? Watch soap operas all day? Ewwwww! Actually, this fic has gone faster than anything else I've ever done. I hope that keeps up.

***B(): **Glad you enjoyed Kitty and Peter's little interlude. I enjoyed writing it, even though I obsessed over it. A lot. I'm glad it wasn't too sappy, though I couldn't help just a little bit. But, I do not feel it is necessary to describe every single detail of the characters anatomy and where it goes for the readers to be able to figure out what's going on and I'm really glad you thought that worked out well. I wanted to leave our favorite couple with a little dignity in this whole mess. And, yes, the Soulsword is definitely working toward something. It's a sneaky little rascal.

**Araya-Michiru: **Wow, you read it twice! I'm so happy!! I'm glad you like the website. It's really great for background on a lot of the more popular characters and I'm really impressed that the fans that run it can keep up with all that back history. It's a great research tool. And I have to agree about the second X-Men movie. What more could you want than a gorgeous, barely dressed guy that can turn to metal and throw people through walls? I was just disappointed that he didn't get more screen time. It did take me a while, though, to accept the movie's idea that Rogue hooked up with Wolvie like that. In the comics, when she joined the X-Men, he was pretty set on just killing her. The whole team hated Rogue and threatened to quit if Professor Xavier took her in. I still think the first X-Men movie should have been the story of how Kitty joined the team. You would still have had Storm, Colossus, Cyclops, Phoenix, Wolverine, and Nghtcrawler, plus a really great fight with Emma Frost and the Hellfire club. Oh well, guess you can't have everything. 

**Evanescence kicks ass: **When the ideas are flowing good, I write like a fiend. It's like I can't type fast enough. With this story, so far so good. I haven't hit any really icky snags and things seem to be going very smoothly. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it keeps up. I hope you enjoyed the way the Legacy cure played out. As I said in my note, it wasn't exactly the way I had it planned, but I felt like it worked for the characters and the story. The Soulsword is intriguing, to say the least and there's gonna be some hairy moments before it all comes together. We didn't quite make it to Genosha this chapter but, with any luck at all, we'll make it there in chapter 13. Fair warning, though, it's not gonna be a happy trip and what happens there may just be the thing that drives Kitty completely over the edge.

**Coming Soon:** Or, at least I really hope it is. Chapter 13. Hopefully, I'll get all these darn mutants out of the mansion this time. Finally! There won't be many X-Men left in Westchester and they're gonna be spreading out all over the place before this thing drags them, and a few surprise guests, all back together again. With any luck, we'll be moving on to Genosha next and the Sentinel Holocost. And we'll find out a little more about that cloaked figure about to knock on the X-Men's door.


	13. One Tin Soldier Rides Away

**Disclaimer:** Ok, let's go over this one more time. The X-Men are not mine. They belong to Marvel. But, for the unspeakable things that company has done to our favorite mutants, they don't deserve them. Now, everybody say it with me: They killed Jean! Again! Those bastards! I'm making no money off of this.

Sorry guys. I'm not dead, nor did I drop off the face of the earth. This chapter just gave me a fit. I guess thirteen really is an unlucky number. The good news is, nobody dies this time. Mostly just a lot of dialogue, angst, and tying up of loose ends so we can move on to the really good stuff. Fair warning: This is a long one and finally finishes up with the night and day that never seemed to end.

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**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 13 – One Tin Soldier Rides Away**

Peter sat in the parlor - along with the rest of the team currently in residence - head down, thoughts a wild jumble, as chaos reigned all around him. 

It seemed as if it had been going on for hours now, though it was probably less than thirty minutes since they'd all gathered here. But, once it had begun, things had only intensified and he had the distinct feeling that it would all get worse before it got better.

He'd been the last one down - answering Hanks cry of alarm, which had brought the entire household running, braced for a fight - and the confused young man had immediately been besieged with question after question, barely giving him time to breathe. 

All he'd really been able to do in answer to their inquiries and demands was hand Logan and Kurt the letters Kitty had left for them and leave them to read the details, such as they were, for themselves. He could only hope she'd left them more information than she'd left for him.

After the letters were read, passed around, and read again, it had taken Hank and Cecelia only minutes to appraise everyone of the situation, the missing Legacy sample and their theory on the most likely - really the only - person who could have taken it. The only person who was currently unaccounted for.

Kitty.

After that, Peter had seen or heard very little of the ensuing mayhem. It all just washed over him, flowing around him as water flows around a stone. Strangely enough, that was exactly what his heart felt like at the moment. A heavy, dull, stone.

It sat there, in the middle of his chest, not allowing him to breathe, barely allowing him to think. And only one thought was in his head, running round and round, as he reeled from the shock of one crisis piled atop another.

There had to be a mistake. Surely Kitty wouldn't have done this.

But, in the very back of his mind, an insidious little voice spoke up, telling him exactly what he didn't want to hear; that Kitty had, indeed, done exactly this. 

In that hard, heavy lump that had been his heart, Peter knew it was true.

The large Russian man refused to even think what the information might mean. He refused to acknowledge that things could have gone from bad to infinitely worse in only a matter of hours. 

Because, if he pondered it too closely, he knew he would go quietly mad. 

Had he not made that disastrous decision about the Legacy serum last night, she would have had no reason to take it with her when she left. Whatever happened to Kitty would be because of him, would be his fault. Of that, there was no doubt. 

Now, everyone in the room seemed to be trying to speak at once, talking over and through one another, as they debated a course of action.

Though what they truly thought any of them could actually do at this point was a mystery. In Peter's opinion, the matter was long out of their hands.

Across the room, Kurt and Rogue exchanged a pained look, sharing their own growing worry and unease, about events from the previous night as well as the possible outcome of events this morning. It was a waking nightmare, one long, unending disaster, and no one seemed to have the faintest idea what to do next.

Kurt gave his foster sister a tight smile, meant to be somewhat reassuring, but it fell well short of the mark. Rogue, however, understood perfectly.

There was very little reassurance to be had, by any of them, at the moment. Things just looked too bleak, the questions they all had only seeming to lead to more questions, with no answers in sight.

"Do we know what time she may have left?" Ororo asked of no one in particular, but it was Peter who answered, lifting his head slightly and turning toward his long time friend.

"Very early this morning."

No one had to ask how he knew. It hadn't taken them all very long to figure out that Peter and Kitty had spent the night together, but no one saw any reason to make an issue of it. In truth, most of them had been expecting it to happen long before now.

"Yep, that'd be about right." Logan put in gruffly. "It was just barely after sun up when I saw her take off." 

The Wolverine stood against the front wall of the room, scowling at no one and everyone, too agitated to sit, wanting to pace back and forth, like a caged tiger. But he forced himself to remain still, not give in to the instinctive urge to get out the door, go on the hunt, and find his girl.

How he might accomplish that, he hadn't quite figured out. Sure, he had amazing, enhanced senses, but even he couldn't track one motorcycle through New York state. And there just weren't any clues to where Kitty might have gone. She'd covered her tracks very well.

He'd already read both of those notes, his and Kurt's, at least four times, but none of it had told him anything he didn't already know. 

And that was damned little. 

Knowing she'd as good as said she didn't want to be found didn't make him feel one bit better. It just made him antsy, restless, and ill tempered.

"Petey," Rouge asked gently from beside the distraught Russian, laying one gloved hand on his arm. "are ya sure you don't have any idea where she went? Maybe if ya think about it for a while..." She let her voice trail off, knowing it was a futile question, even as she knew what the big man's answer would be.

Not bothering to look at her, Peter just shook his dark head. "What do you think I have been doing all this time? If I had any idea where she was, I would already be there."

As the young man seemed almost to fold in on himself, Rogue slipped her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. God help them if something happened to Kitty. She didn't think Peter would be able to take it. As it was, he looked about ready to collapse.

"And I still cannot believe you simply let her go like that. What were you thinking, Logan?" Turning to the stocky Canadian, Storm shot him a reproachful look, as if he were a disobedient child, which he promptly shrugged off. "Especially after the events of last night."

She wasn't being insulting and annoying on purpose, Logan reminded himself. Or, at least, he didn't think she was. It just came out that way. That was how she dealt with things she was powerless to change. And the resident Weather Goddess hated being powerless, especially where Kitty was concerned.

Logan was trying very hard to remember that so that he could keep his own temper in check. He wasn't exactly the most patient man in the world at the best of times and, right now, he was standing on the thin edge of control, hanging on by a thread. Storm was trying him this morning, whether she realized it or not. All it would take to set him off was one more little push.

As he watched the elegant African woman, it was all he could do to keep his mouth clamped shut on the words that wanted to spill out.

He'd told her weeks ago that Kitty was having problems, serious ones, but she hadn't wanted to believe it. He'd also told her that Kit and Peter together wasn't necessarily the best combination, but she hadn't listened to that either.

Now, they had this damned mess to deal with. Who knew what was going through Kitty's mind to cause her to do something like this.

Ok, so it wasn't exactly fair to Ororo. So what? He wasn't in a very fair mood.

And then, there was that little, niggling voice that kept whispering in his ear, telling him that he was only looking for someone else to shift his own blame, his own guilt, onto. Because, down deep, he knew that he was the one who hadn't been paying attention, who hadn't done all he could to head this off, even though he'd seen it coming from a mile away.

He'd let Kitty talk him into stepping back, letting her try to handle things on her own. Even when he'd known he shouldn't. Even when he'd known she might be in serious trouble.

Now, she'd be the one to pay for his mistake. And that knowledge was eating him alive. 

"Well, I was pretty much thinkin' that she's a grown woman and can do as she damn well pleases, without askin' us fer permission." He replied with as little venom as he could manage, but it still came out sharp and irritated. "And I don't think what happened at that damned club last night had anything to do with this, either." At this, he turned toward Peter, addressing the young man directly. "Or am I wrong in assumin' that you and Kit worked that out between ya after ya got home last night?"

The boy looked like shit, but Logan didn't think the big Russian had anything to do, at least directly, with Kit's leaving. Her scent was all over him and it told Logan, with absolute certainty, just exactly what they'd been up to after they disappeared last night. 

The feral Canadian still wasn't quite sure how he felt about that knowledge.

With a sigh, Peter shook his head again, still staring at the carpet. "No, it had nothing to do with what happened before we came back here. We...talked, settled much between us. But, apparently, it was not enough..."

The young man's distress and grief were almost palpable, and Ororo, feeling a sharp pang of guilt, gave him a somewhat apologetic look.

"Forgive me, Little Brother." Ororo spoke up, sending Peter a contrite look. "I did not mean to imply that Kitty's leaving was any of your doing, or in any way your fault." She looked to Logan next, offering him a wan smile. "Or anyone else's really. It seems we are all on edge." 

One elegant hand drifted up to massage her temple as the regal, platinum-haired, woman closed her eyes briefly. "I am, quite simply, worried sick about her. If only she would have confided in one of us, told us what has been bothering her so lately, perhaps we could have helped before it came to this."

As chorus of agreement echoed around the room, Betsy Braddock, situated in one far corner, almost as if she were hiding, slumped down even farther in a rather uncomfortable looking arm chair. If it were possible for a person to actually feel lower than dirt, she had just attained that state.

The lavender haired young Brit was uncharacteristically quiet, having barely spoken a word, chewing nervously on her nails and listening to the animated conversation raging around her with a somewhat guilty, pained, expression.

As she was methodically destroying the last of her once-flawless manicure, Neal leaned down from his position beside her and gently moved her hand away from her face, pushing it back down to rest in her lap.

She glanced up to find him staring at her with deep, chocolate brown eyes, brows knit in puzzlement and concern. "Elisabeth, are you all right? You're awfully quiet. Is there something wrong? Well..." he corrected himself. "more wrong than what we already know about?"

Psylocke didn't answer immediately, and Neal continued to watch her, noting how pale she was underneath her normally golden skin tone, how she seemed subdued, yet nervous, almost as if she were sitting on pins and needles.

Something was bothering her. He could sense it. Something more than just the current situation under discussion. But Neal couldn't imagine what it might be. Granted, he knew Kitty and Betsy were fairly close, and Betsy was understandably worried about the young woman, but this was something else. Something that went deeper.

It wasn't like Betsy, even at the worst of times, to be so quiet and withdrawn. Normally, she would have been firmly entrenched in the middle of this discussion, offering her opinions and pushing to get the search on the road. Instead, she was entirely too quiet, too...droopy. And he doubted, very seriously, that anyone had ever before described this woman as droopy.

Yes, something was definitely very wrong. He just couldn't seem to figure out exactly what would have her acting so strangely.

Sighing heavily, Betsy dropped her eyes, refusing to look him in the face, her hands now fidgeting nervously in her lap. "I'm fine. It's just...upsetting, I suppose."

The British ninja once again fell silent, seemingly willing to elaborate further and, though he gave her an odd look, Neal let the matter drop, resolving to talk to her further about it later. 

After all, it might have absolutely nothing to do with what they were dealing with now.

As Peter spoke up again, the India native reluctantly returned his attention back to the discussion, and the problem, at hand. 

"Do not apologize to me, Ororo." Looking around the room, his gaze pausing briefly on each face, Peter Rasputin took a deep breath and continued, knowing he was about to add fuel to the fire, but unable to keep still any longer. "I am not finished. Though I do not believe the earlier incident played a part in this, I fear that my actions after I arrived back here may be quite another matter all together...."

While everyone else was watching the dark haired young man expectantly, Logan didn't miss the look of concern and trepidation that passed between Cecelia Reyes and Hank McCoy, and it raised the hackles on the back of Wolverine's neck. Instinct told him that he was not going to like what was coming.

"I think ya better explain what ya mean by that, Pete." he growled, turning his attention swiftly back to the younger man as his stomach tied itself in even more knots than it already had.

"Da." Peter replied simply, then began to relate the previous nights incident in the medlab.

Logan stared at his Russian team mate, eyes hard and unreadable as flint, as Peter slowly, painfully, relayed his actions from the night before, how he'd intended to use the Legacy cure on himself and how Kitty had found him and managed to talk him out of it. To his credit, he left nothing out, did not change or embellish even the smallest detail in order to save face. 

When he was done, the room went completely still as this new, even more shocking, information was absorbed. Then, everyone erupted at once.

"Bright Lady preserve us. Oh, Peter... Little Brother, what would possess you to even consider such a thing?"

"Peter, Gott in Himmel. I am speechless...."

"Oh, man!"

"Oh, Sweet Jesus, Petey....What...Ah don't..."

Rogue was crying, so upset she was unable to complete a sentence and furiously dashing the tears from her face with one gloved hand as she sat, scowling, slumped down on the long, floral print couch, arms wrapped around herself almost defensively. 

On the other side of the room, Kurt was nearly jumping out of his own fur with nervous energy, this new information only further convincing him that they were wasting their time on discussion. He wanted to go out and **do** something, though he had no idea what it would be. They had very little to go on. But he didn't feel right just sitting here. Not after what they'd just learned.

In the wing back chair near where Rogue sat, Ororo just looked stunned, shell shocked, as if she were caught in a dream she'd just discovered she couldn't wake up from. 

Bishop and Sage, as usual, were harder to read, tending to keep their emotions to themselves and observe, rather than react, until they had all the information. 

Neal looked slightly uncomfortable and Peter realized the young India native felt out of place. After all, he didn't know either he or Kitty all that well yet. 

Bobby Drake was rendered nearly speechless, an event that had rarely, if ever, occurred before as he sat blinking at his Siberian team mate. 

His team mates and friends each expressed their shock and dismay as Peter simply slumped back on the sofa and let their comments and exclamations bounce off of him. There was nothing they could say to him that he hadn't already said to himself over and over again. Nothing could make him feel worse than he already did.

In truth, he was beyond caring about himself. His only concern at the moment was Kitty and what might be happening, or have already happened, to her. His mind would let him think of nothing else.

Indeed, it supplied him with ideas and images far too vivid, far too real, for his taste.

He looked up just in time to see Logan, who hadn't spoken a word since Peter began his tale, push away from the wall where he'd been standing, listening to this whole drama unfold. The short, stocky man's face was hard as stone, his emotions heavily veiled, as he crossed the room. 

Though most wouldn't have thought it possible for the relatively short Canadian, the feral mutant made it across the distance in three strides or less. Before anyone could react, Wolverine was in Peter's face, practically snarling, his eyes cold and deadly.

He was only restraining himself from popping his claws through sheer force of will as the rage rolled over him. Right this minute, he wanted nothing more than to poke a few holes in the man before him.

Considering the state of mind Kitty had been in lately, Rasputin might be the last thing on earth Kitty needed – for that matter, she might be the last thing Peter needed, if this mess was anything to go by - but she loved him. Always had. And it would've killed her if something had happened to the big idiot. 

The boy should have known that, should have known better.

God, he didn't even want to think about how she must have felt, what must have been going through her mind when she realized what the idiot was about to do. Kit would rather die herself than loose another person in her life. 

At the end of his tenuous patience and control, Logan's temper finally snapped.

"Of all th' fuckin' stupid stunts ta pull, Bub, this takes th' flamin' cake. What th' hell were ya thinkin'? Yer not stupid. Or, at least, I didn't think ya were. Ya had ta know what somethin' like that would do ta her. Or didn't ya care?" 

The accusations stabbed him straight through the heart, but Peter seemed to take the verbal lashing with calm acceptance, only raising his head at the last question to look Logan in the eye. When dark blue met nearly black, however, even Logan was surprised to see a rage smoldering there that nearly matched his own. 

Each man was upset, worried, and feeling frustratingly helpless. Logan had decided to take that frustration out on Peter, but the younger man was almost at the very end of his own tolerance. 

In the last few hours, not only had he lost the only woman he'd ever really loved, but he was now dealing with the fact that the loss might be as permanent as death. And the only person he could really blame was himself.

"Of course, I care." Peter replied with quiet menace, fighting a loosing battle to hold himself in check. "Believe me, tovarisch, there is absolutely nothing you can say to me at this point that I have not already said to myself at least a dozen times. If there were any way for me to go back and change this, I would. I would sooner sacrifice my own life than allow anything to happen to Katya." 

Logan snorted, putting all the derision and disgust he could into the sound. "Yeah, yeah. Same song, different tune. Ya never learn, do ya? Ya pull this kinda shit, then, after th' damage is done, after ya've screwed Kit over six ways ta Sunday, then yer all sorry and upset." 

Eyes blazing, he grabbed the front of Peter's shirt, hauling him forward so they were nose to nose. "I've overlooked a lot with you over the years, Rasputin, ignored a lot o' shit I probably shouldn't 'ave. Fer Kit's sake, fer 'Ro's sake. Hell, fer yer sake, too. But you listen and you listen good, boy. If anything happens ta Kit because o' this, I'm holdin' you personally responsible. And I'll make damned sure ya never get th' chance ta do it again....You understand me?" 

The Wolverine spoke with quiet menace, his lips peeled back in a snarl, practically daring Peter to make a move. Right now, he'd welcome the opportunity to kick some ass and let off a little steam. And if the ass in question happened to belong to Peter Rasputin, as far as Logan was concerned, that was all to the better.

The two men stared at one another, rage almost visibly crackling between them, the other occupants of the room seemingly frozen in place as they watched, horrified, at this new scene playing out in front of them

"Has everyone gone insane?" Storm mumbled quietly, unaware she'd spoken aloud. This was madness and she couldn't allow it to continue. 

Peter never flinched, never dropped his eyes. Though his face was a glowing, beet red as he seethed inside, fighting the urge to pull back and punch the smaller man with all the considerable strength at his disposal, the large Russian refused to allow this to degenerate into a brawl if he could help it. 

None of them were thinking clearly. They were all well beyond upset, and he couldn't possibly fault Logan for caring about Kitty and what happened to her. Any more than he could fault the man - who was, in all the ways that mattered, Kitty's father - for blaming him for the current situation. 

On that particular point, the two men were in total agreement.

Carefully, Peter reached up with one hand and gently but firmly pried Logan's fingers off his shirt collar, never dropping his eyes from the other man. He might not want to fight right now, but the Canadian obviously did. In fact, he seemed to be spoiling for a fight. Peter was not going to start an altercation, but he would defend himself if necessary.

Thankfully, before things could escalate any farther, a soft voice drew Logan's attention as Ororo stepped to his side, placing her cool palm on his forearm.

"Logan....please. This solves nothing."

The feral X-Man whirled toward her, and growled a warning, before jerking his arm out of her grasp and turning, this time, on Hank McCoy and Cecelia Reyes, pinning them with the same hostile stare he'd so recently used on Peter Rasputin.

"An' another damn thing I want ta know," he bit out. "....why the hell didn't you two tell us all this last night? If ya had, I coulda tracked 'em down and we might not be in this flamin' mess right now."

When neither doctor answered, he took a step closer to where they both sat, his hands clenching instinctively into fists.

"Every one of ya" Logan's nearly black eyes scanned the room, scorching his friends with the heat of his anger. "know Kit well enough that ya oughta know how she'd react ta somethin' like this. I can't believe it never crossed yer minds this might happen." He spat the words out as he began pacing the room restlessly.

Ororo and Kurt shared a knowing look that said "this isn't going to be over anytime soon", before Ororo just shook her head in resignation and sat back down.

Logan had worked himself up into a near frenzy and she knew there'd be no talking to him just now. She only hoped the situation didn't degenerate any farther than it already had.

The last thing any of them needed, on top of everything else, was a brawl.

Perched on the wide window sill, the large, blue, Beast already looked about as guilty and dejected as a person possibly could, but Logan's rather blunt accusation had his shoulders slumping even further, as if all the air was slowly being let out of him, a little bit at a time.

With a tired sigh, Hank McCoy ran his hand through the thick, blue fur on his head. "At the time, we felt it would be best to try and talk with the two parties involved further, before bringing the rest of the team in on the incident." He turned his broad head, looking to Cecelia for confirmation and she nodded, managing to look both angry and near tears all at the same time. "We had no idea anything like this would happen. Not in a million years." 

"After all, Logan," Though he tried, Peter couldn't resist speaking up again, despite the fact that he knew it would probably only make things worse. "it was **our** business. When, exactly, did Katya's and my personal relationship become team business?"

On the other side of the room, from his place on the love seat, Kurt groaned as Logan turned back toward Peter. The Elf was fervently wishing that his Russian friend would be quiet. If this kept up, Logan was going to completely lose it, and they had enough to deal with at the moment without dealing with Wolverine trying to tear the team, and the house, apart.

Peter and Logan were glaring at one another, clouds of steam practically shooting from Wolverine's ears, while tension, thick as molasses, hung about the room, along with an uncomfortable sensation of dread expectancy. Things were at the point of exploding and it would be very, very ugly.

Before that could happen, in the arm chair a few feet away, Bobby Drake leaned forward, taking his life in his hands and speaking into the tense silence as he looked between Logan, Peter, and Hank. 

"Look, it wasn't really Hank and Cecelia's fault,....or Peter's,....or anybody's, really." Iceman stated reasonably. "We're all grown ups, not a bunch of little kids, and we can't baby-sit one another constantly. Just like Logan said, Kitty's a grown woman." 

At least he had their attention, he thought wryly, as all heads in the room swiveled in his direction. Now, if he could just manage to keep them from killing him, or each other, he might actually have a chance to diffuse the situation before it became violent.

Bobby looked around the room, his gaze landing on each of his, sometime, team mates in turn, his expression surprisingly grave. Gone was Bobby Drake, prankster and practical joker. In his place was the more practical, serious personality of Robert Drake, businessman. 

"And sitting around asking the same questions a dozen times over, or throwing blame back and forth, isn't getting us anywhere." He looked pointedly at Ororo, Logan, and Peter, whose reactions varied from outright hostility to reluctant agreement. "So, let's come up with some kind of plan of action, before we waste any more time. Whose fault it is isn't what's important. Kitty's what's important and all this isn't helping us find her."

Bobby's unexpected insight and intervention seemed to have the desired effect of catching everyone off guard and dispelling some of the tension in the room as attention was redirected to him. After the assembled group was finished gaping at Iceman as if he'd suddenly grown two heads – having the Robert Drake, resident practical joker, be the sole voice of reason in the room was more than a little disconcerting for most of them - Kurt recovered from the shock enough to add his own opinion. 

"Ja. Of course, Bobby is correct. Peter and Kitty are both adults, capable of making their own decisions and handling their own relationships and problems. It isn't like all of us have been in a similar frame of mind at one time or another." Around the room, heads bobbed in agreement, more than a few sporting rather wry expressions. "And we need to concentrate on the problem at hand instead of constantly becoming sidetracked."

Being reminded of his own earlier words about Kitty being an adult, who didn't have to ask their permission to live her life, had the desired effect of bringing Logan back to his senses, at least mostly. With a slightly less hostile snort, he stalked back to his previous place in the room, leaning back against the far wall, though his face still sported a deep scowl and his eyes burned with impotent anger, barely held in check.

"So...what do we do now?" Neal spoke into the silence that had descended upon the room as the conversation seemed to stall. They'd covered all the ground they could, it seemed, over and over again, and still knew, basically, no more than they had when they'd begun. "Do we look for her? Let her go?" 

He looked around the room at all the faces, most of which were just as confused, just as much at a loss, as he was. It was Kurt who finally answered him.

"Frankly, I believe, considering her recent behavior and state of mind, we **have** try to find her. As soon as possible. And the more time we waste, sitting here and talking in circles, the less likely that our efforts will be met with success."

His last statement was said with glowing, golden eyes casting pointed looks around the room. The German mutant was becoming increasingly impatient with, what he perceived as, the continued delay in getting out of here and starting the search. He didn't see what good sitting here and talking it all to death was going to do, other than create more problems. He wanted to get out and start looking for Kitty.

"I cannot begin to contemplate what her plans might be for the vial of Legacy cure that she, apparently, took with her. Nor do I particularly want to. But I could not live with myself if something were to happen to her while we did nothing."

The problem there was, they had no idea where to start. In the notes she'd left, Kitty had given them no idea where she was going, other than the address to the parking garage where she'd told Logan he could pick up her bike. In fact, she had as much as told them she had no intention of allowing them to find her. 

. "Where would we even start, Kurt?" Rogue asked dejectedly, frustration rolling off her in waves as she looked at her foster brother. "We don't have no idea what her plans are, where she's headed, nothin'." She lifted her hands into the air helplessly, then let them drop back into her lap. "An' Ah know Kit well enough to know that, if she don't wanna be found, we ain't gonna find her. Not with no more to go on than what we got now."

"Which is precisely nothing." Bishop spoke up from his place, standing next to Tessa, who sat on the love seat, next to Kurt. They'd both been listening, up to this point, gathering information and doing what they did best. Analyzing the situation from all angles and trying to decide the best way to approach it. "Other than the fact that Logan saw her turn left out of the front gate this morning, we have no idea where she went or what her plans are. As Rogue just said, if she doesn't want to be found, we'll have a hell of a time tracking her down."

"You can't be serious!" Cecelia had been listening, trying to hold her tongue, but she was finding this whole thing completely unbelievable. She jumped up, gesturing broadly with her arms. "I can't believe we're not already out there looking for her. We've got an admittedly troubled girl walking around with a sample if the Legacy cure! A sample that is, without question, deadly. There's no way I'm sitting here and just letting it go. You know what the outcome will be if she uses it on herself. Or, worse yet, someone else."

"Yes, Dr. Reyes." Peter's head came around, pinning Cecelia Reyes with a look so full of hostility that it made her blanch. "We all are very well aware of what the outcome would be. How could we possibly be otherwise?" 

***********************************************************************************************************************

After dropping her motorcycle at the long term parking garage, where she knew Logan would pick it up eventually, Kitty took a few minutes to give some thought to her next move.

She could take a bus or a train part of the way, or catch a flight to where she needed to go, but she didn't want to do it anywhere close to New York or Westchester. She couldn't take a chance on any of them, especially Peter, following her. It was too dangerous.

Things were getting progressively worse, at an alarming rate.

Ever since she'd left the hospital, and Raven...oh, God, she didn't want to think about Raven...the Soulsword had been calling to her. It refused to leave her alone now, and she knew her time was running out very fast. Whatever she had left to do, it would have to be done soon. Or it would never be done at all.

_You have nothing to fear from me. The bond has been forged. Call to me. Take me up. _

_**No! Not yet. You'll have me soon enough, but I won't give in before this is done. **_

It was in her head again, louder, stronger, than ever. The call was nearly irresistible, now, though Kitty didn't understand why things had suddenly changed so. As if, overnight, the swords claim on her, it's power over her, had increased at least ten-fold. As if she was now even more tightly bound to it.

Kitty had never felt so lost, so totally and completely alone, in her entire life.

The call of the Soulsword was almost as irresistible as her urge to run back to Peter, to throw herself into his arms and never leave. She missed him and she needed him now as never before. But she refused to allow herself to dwell on it. If she allowed herself to feel anything, allowed even the tiniest bit of emotion to seep out of that box she'd shoved it all into, the pain of leaving him, of losing him would destroy her, more surely than the sword ever could.

Trying to shake the thought from her head, Kitty dropped down onto a nearby bench to gather her wits, to try and get her head together.

Had it only been last night that she was with him, that they were together? Right now, the time, the love, they'd shared seemed like an eternity ago. Like a barely remembered dream. Kitty wanted nothing more than to return to him right now, but she knew she couldn't. 

She couldn't go home, couldn't go to Peter, ever again. It wasn't even lunch time yet, and her whole world already lay crumbled at her feet. And she had no idea how to pick up the pieces.

They would come looking for her. She already knew that. At least, Logan would. Probably Ororo and Kurt, too. Maybe even Peter, despite what she'd asked him to do. They wouldn't just let her disappear, especially with a sample of the Legacy cure, though it was far too late for them to do anything about that particular little problem. It had already been solved, in a way that she had never expected. 

Kitty wondered if they'd heard yet. Had they gotten the call from the prison hospital, telling them that Mystique was gone?

Again, it crossed her mind to wonder how Kurt and Rogue would react to the news, and she hoped that they would understand why Raven had done what she had, that they would know, deep down, the real, honest, caring woman that had hidden inside that hard, aloof, uncaring exterior for so many years. 

In her heart, Raven Darkholme had cared much more deeply than she'd ever let be known. Kitty thought it was a terrible waste that the only person who'd ever really known Mystique for who she really was inside was Irene Adler. Especially when she had a son and a foster daughter who would have gladly remained part of her life. 

If Raven had only given him the chance, talked to him, Kurt would have forgiven her anything, given a little time. The man couldn't hold a grudge, against anyone, even if he wanted to. He would have accepted her as his family, as his mother, with open arms. It was just the way he was. 

And Rogue would have been the same. No matter what Mystique may have done, to her, to her friends, she was still the woman who had raised her, who had been the only mother she had ever known, and the young southern woman would have eventually forgiven her. 

But now, neither of them would have that chance. And the worst of it was, when it was all finally said and done, when this whole mess was over, it may all have very well been for nothing.

Kitty wondered, not for the first time in the last couple of hours, if Raven had really done her any favors but keeping her from using the Legacy cure on herself. With the Soulsword's influence growing so swiftly, taxing her already waning willpower to the breaking point, the young mutant ninja couldn't help but speculate that perhaps she'd have been better off sacrificing herself to the Legacy cure than living with what might lie in store for her, once she could no longer resist the sword's call.

Either way, she was fairly certain she was damned just the same.

"Miss? Are you all right?"

The cultured, softly accented voice, coming from directly in front of her, abruptly jerked Kitty out of her reverie. She lifted her face to find a man standing only a foot or so in away, apparently watching her. 

With the sun behind him, but shining into her face, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust so that she could make out his features. For just a moment, he was only a silhouette, surrounded by a corona of light. A tall, broad, figure, clothed in the sun. It should have been an almost angelic illusion, but, for some reason, Kitty found it oddly disturbing.

What she saw, when her pupils adjusted to the light, was a very tall, striking man, with long, dark hair left loose about his shoulders, dark eyes fringed by thick, black lashes, classically handsome features and a sturdy muscular build. He wore a full length, tan, leather duster over a simple, but expensively cut, dark suit, and he stood perfectly, completely, still as he waited for her response, staring down at her in concern.

_**God, I must really be slipping. I had no idea he was anywhere around. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he just appeared out of thin air.**_

Mentally chiding herself for allowing someone to catch her off guard like that, though she told herself that the man hadn't been **trying** to sneak up on her, Kitty put on her most polite, hopefully normal-looking, smile for his benefit.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just daydreaming, I guess."

The man nodded, still watching her closely, as if he might not quite believe her. "You appeared very dejected. I thought perhaps you were having difficulties and were in need of assistance."

It took her a moment, but Kitty finally placed the accent. Spanish, possibly Portuguese. obviously cultured, upper class. His bearing, dress, his whole demeanor, was completely non-threatening. He appeared to be a nice looking, kindly, man. But he was beginning to give Kitty the creeps, for reasons she couldn't begin to name. 

Suddenly nervous, she stood, forcing him to take a step back from her to keep them from colliding, and kept the smile plastered on her face, instinct telling her to reveal nothing of her feelings or apprehension to this unknown man.

"Oh, no. Just the normal, everyday problems every girl has." She shrugged negligently, playing the whole thing off. The longer she was close to him, the stronger the urge became to get away as quickly as possible. And Kitty had learned long ago to trust her own instincts. If they were telling her the guy was trouble, then he probably was. "Trouble at home, fight with my boyfriend. You know...just minor stuff."

Kitty put all the guileless innocence into the statement that she could muster, even as her keen eyes watched the man carefully, trying to decide if he was truly a threat, or if she was simply over reacting. He had made no overt move toward her and his face still retained that look of harmless, sincere, concern. Indeed, he gave every appearance of being simply what he claimed. A good Samaritan.

So, why were the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end all of a sudden?

_You must get away from him. Now._

It was only her years and years of training that kept the surprise from showing on her face as the voice of the Soulsword leapt into her mind, sounding almost frantic. Despite her own dislike for the mystical object, Kitty couldn't help but agree as she saw the man's black eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, his gaze sharpen slightly. Almost as if he'd heard the sword as well.

But that was impossible.

The strange man watched her for a moment longer, his dark gaze seeming to try and reach inside her, see into her very soul, uncover what was hidden there. Or like a telepath, trying to quietly pry into her mind. 

Instinctively, Kitty threw up every mental shield she had, even though she knew full well that she was nearly impossible for a telepath to read, even without them. Something told her that this was no ordinary man. Nor, she didn't believe, was he a mutant. Here was something else entirely.

Then, suddenly, he broke eye contact, bowed formally, and stepped back a few paces from her. "Of course. I hope I did not trouble you too much, my dear. But, it is....unsafe for a young woman such as yourself to linger alone too long...." His voice trailed off and, though his tone, his demeanor, never veered from polite concern, his words chilled her, seeming to hold a quiet, undercurrent of menace.

It was totally unlike Kitty not to hold her ground, stand and fight whatever threat might materialize, but something told her she didn't want to fight this man. Not here. Not yet.

Quickly picking up her two duffle bags from beside the bench, Kitty slung them over her shoulder and began to back away from him, a little at a time. For some reason, she was very reluctant to turn her back on this stranger.

"Oh. Sure. You're right. I'd better get home, now. Wouldn't want the folks to worry." 

As the man simply smiled, nodding slightly in acknowledgment, Kitty backed away several more paces, until she was sure she was well out of his reach. Turning reluctantly, she hurriedly made her way farther down the street, fighting the urge to glance behind her to see if he were following. She could feel his eyes boring into her back until she was out of his line of sight and it made her flesh crawl.

Once she was reasonably sure he could no longer see her, she phased into the ground and got as far away from him as she could, as quickly as she knew how to.

Behind her, the tall man stood motionless, his eyes never leaving the slight, retreating figure.

Finally, he had found the girl. Only she was no longer a girl, but a woman grown. Despite her efforts to make him believe otherwise. 

And the sword followed with her. 

Within her grasp was power beyond imagining. Yet she had not claimed it. She had spurned not only the sword, but the Champion as well. Though, apparently, not before the bond between them had been forged and sealed. That alone proved her a fool. 

And, in the end, her fear of the sword would prove her undoing. As it had done with those that came before her. Only one of them had ever been able to truly accept the power, but one was not enough.

This one was the last. Once she was gone, the sword, and all it's attendant power - the scope and extent of which neither she, nor anyone else in well over nine thousand years, had ever grasped – would be his. 

Now that he had finally located her, she could not hide. There was nowhere she could travel that he could not find her. 

With the others safely disposed of, out of her reach, there would be no one to stop him from taking what was rightfully his. This time, he would succeed. The plans he had laid and set in motion so long ago would finally bear fruit.

He would have the sword. He would have the amulet. Then, the rest would fall in line.

***********************************************************************************************************************

"Logan, couldn't you track her?" Bobby Drake turned to the feral mutant expectantly. "I mean, if anybody's got a chance of finding her, it'd be you."

"I can sure as hell try." With a sigh, Logan shrugged "But, if she don't wanna be found, she won't be." 

Lifting his hands in a gesture of complete helplessness, Kurt Wagner gave in to his mounting frustration. "Gott in Himmel. How are we to even begin to look for her? We have absolutely no idea where to start. She could be anywhere."

"Or...she could just be dead." Rogue's voice was a miserable whisper as she again swiped angrily at the tears that continued to flow down her face. Staring around the room at the horrified faces, she snorted derisively. "Oh, come on. Don't ya try to sit there and tell me y'all haven't been thinkin' the same thing. Just nobody wanted ta be the one ta actually say it out loud." 

"No!" Ororo turned suddenly, screaming at the younger woman, her face a mask of fear and impotent rage. "I will not believe that! Kitty would not seriously contemplate such a thing!"

Rogue just gaped at her, mouth hanging open. "'Roro, haven't you been listenin' to **anything** Hank or Cecelia or Peter said?" She pointed in the direction of the X-Men's two resident physicians, her voice steadily rising higher and higher. "As upset as Kit's been...and after everything that's happened lately...do ya seriously think it wouldn'ta crossed her mind?"

Before Ororo could recover enough to reply, Peter spoke up, his voice tired, grief stricken, and resigned. "Ororo, much as I do not want to admit the possibility to myself, Rogue is correct." He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself, to keep calm, but it did no good. Giving in, he dropped his head into his large hands, unable to continue.

Seeing his distress, Rogue laid one gloved hand on his arm for support and comfort as they exchanged a weary, heartsick look. The southern mutant felt just as guilty as Peter did for not seeing this coming, for not doing **something** to prevent it. What kind of friend was she if she couldn't tell when one of the people closest to her was in this kind of pain?

Without another word needed, Peter draped his arm around Rogue as she leaned into his embrace, laying her head against his shoulder as his cheek rested against her hair.

It was closer physical contact than she might have normally felt comfortable with, but right now they both needed someone to lean on more than safety. 

Silently, Rogue vowed to call Remy at the first opportunity. He might not be able to help, but she knew he'd try. And with his contacts, who knew what he might come up with. Maybe he would have some ideas on this.

"But surely Kitty...she wouldn't..." Storm began to protest, though her tone held much less conviction than it had perviously. Then her voice just trailed off as she slumped in her chair, shaking her head in denial, tears slipping silently down her smooth cheeks, even as she acknowledged the truth of the situation. "No. There is no point in lying to myself. I simply do not want to believe what I already know to be true. Whether we wish to or not, we must accept the possibility that Kitty took the serum with the intent of using it upon herself. We must accept that, no matter what we do now, we may already be too late."

Ororo's quiet assertion hung in the air, much like the sword of Damocles, just waiting to drop down on their heads. They'd all been so wrapped up in their own plans, their own problems, that it had blinded them to one another's hardships. 

What had happened, the weather mutant wondered, to the X-Men they used to be, the ones who looked out for one another, that noticed when their friends were hurting and tried to help them through it? What had happened to the X-Men who had been as much a family as a team? 

Looking at it all now, it was as if they had all been completely blind to what was going on right in front of them. They should have, every one of them, realized what was coming, but they'd been walking around with blinders on, seeing just their little section of the world. And it wasn't only this time, with Kitty. It had happened before, more often than she wanted to admit.

Only Logan had even come close to grasping the extent of Kitty's problems. He'd tried to tell her, and she'd refused to listen, too caught up in her new, personal crusade to pay more than passing attention to anyone else's problems or needs. Even Kitty's. 

Just the thought of Kitty, or Peter, or – Goddess help them all – both of them, using that sample on themselves made her blood run ice cold. And her heart nearly froze in her chest.

And, if Kitty wasn't planning to use it on herself,.....well that thought would be almost as horrifying.

The worst of it was, whatever use it had been intended for, they were probably too late to stop it. More than likely, it already over and done, before the rest of them had even realized anything was wrong. 

"What makes any of ya think Kit took that sample ta use on herself?" Logan threw the question out into the middle of the group, watching as understanding, followed by something like stunned horror, flickered across the assembled faces. 

Unlike some of the others, he didn't believe Kitty had any intention of injecting herself with the Legacy cure. If she'd wanted to do that, she could just as easily have done it here. And if she was gonna kill herself, he didn't think she would have packed for her trip into the afterlife. No. Kit had taken that sample with a specific target in mind. He just wished he could get his brain to come up with an idea who it might have been.

"I agree." As always, Tessa was perfectly calm, appearing impassive as ever as she spoke for the first time since this impromptu meeting had begun. "It makes absolutely no logical sense for her to take the sample, pack her belongings, and leave if her intention was to simply use it to kill herself and release the antidote. And do you truly believe that, whatever she was planning to do with the sample, it has not already been done?"

"Which brings us back to the original question, I believe." Bishop looked to Logan and Ororo. "What do we do now?"

"Now," Logan began, pushing off from the wall and leveling his gaze at Kurt. "we get out asses in gear, quit yappin', and start lookin'. You up for a little travelin', Elf?"

As Kurt opened his mouth to reply, at the same time moving to stand up, a soft, hesitant voice rang out from the corner of the room.

"Wait." 

As one, all eyes turned toward Elisabeth Braddock as she sat, head down, tears streaming down her cheeks, long hanging around her face in a violet curtain. Neal was hunched down beside her, trying to comfort her and looking completely out of his depth.

"You still don't know everything. None of you do."

"Elisabeth, please," Peter was the first one to speak as he turned toward the British X-Woman. "If you know something that may help us, help Kitty, we need to know. I do not mind admitting that I am sick with fear at what may be happening to her...what may have already happened..."

Dropping her head into her slender, elegant hands, Psylocke sniffled miserably. "I feel like a bloody idiot."

Logan turned to her then, his smile wry and thin, but at least it was a smile. "Well, join th' crowd, Darlin'. Seems like it's a general theme this mornin'. Don't let that stop ya." Taking a good, long look at the former telepath, however, his eyes narrowed, expression immediately sobering. "Now, what's up, Betts?"

Now that she had everyone's full attention, Betsy Braddock took a deep breath, opened her mouth...and was promptly interrupted by the rapid fire ringing of the front doorbell.

"Of all th' flamin', idiotic times..." Logan growled from between clenched teeth, turning toward the noise.

The assembled mutants automatically turned as well, shooting irritated glances in the direction of the loud, chiming music and debating on whether to answer it, or ignore it and hope whatever ill-timed visitor had arrived would depart just as quickly.

Before any of them could rise, Bobby stood from his chair, rolling his eyes, shaking his head in disgust, and calling out a sarcastic, "I'll get it. It's probably Magneto coming by for tea," as well as a few other muttered imprecations under his breath - mutterings that no one else in the room caught, and Logan wasn't about to repeat - as he headed for the front entryway. 

Whoever was out there was still leaning on the doorbell with all their might, and it was a bit distracting, to say the least, as the electronic notes of the Für Elise continued to ring through the complex almost non-stop.

When it finally ceased, everyone in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief and automatically turned back to Betsy expectantly.

"Please continue, Elisabeth." Kurt encouraged. "You had something you wished to tell us?"

"Oh, God. I don't even know where to begin." she moaned, coming very near another bout of tears. She couldn't believe she'd let Kitty talk her into keeping this a secret. It had been against her better judgment, but the younger woman had been adamant, almost panicked, and she hadn't been able to refuse her request. 

But it had been a huge mistake. 

If she'd told someone to begin with, maybe all this wouldn't be happening now. Maybe Kitty wouldn't be missing. Maybe they wouldn't all be sitting here sniping at one another. Maybe that damned Legacy cure wouldn't be walking around out in the world. Or, worse, have already done it's damage. 

"Just start at the beginning, Betsy." Neal replied softly, taking her hand. "Whatever it is, I doubt it can possibly be worse than what we've already heard. And, who knows, maybe it'll be something that'll really help in all this."

Raising her violet eyes, Betsy gave him a look of infinite sadness and defeat. "Oh, Neal, luv. You have no idea what you're saying. You haven't been doing this long enough to know that things can always, and usually do, get worse..."

Almost as if he'd been cued, Bobby Drake re-appeared in the doorway, pale, shaken, and not a little nervous, as he stammered hesitantly.

"Uh...guys....we've got a visitor..." 

With an exasperated sigh, Storm turned in her seat, shooting him a quelling glare. Irritated, upset, and tired as she was, she missed the uncharacteristically subdued look of him. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Robert! Can it not wait? Surely this is more important...."

"I don't think so, Ororo." The elemental mutant shook his head, stepping back out of the doorway. "You guys really need to hear this." 

As all eyes locked on the hall doorway, a cloaked figure stepped into the room, stopping just inside the threshold, face and body concealed by the large, enveloping garment he or she wore. Covered from head to toe as the person was, it was impossible to discern even gender.

While everyone else watched curiously, if a little suspiciously, Kurt Wagner went very still, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he tried to discern why this unexpected arrival, the way they moved, seemed so familiar to him. 

Not far away, Wolverine, who'd come to immediate alert as soon as the mysterious visitor had enter the room, managed to catch their guests scent. If anyone had been paying attention to him, they would have been surprised, to say the least, to see him relax back against the wall, crossing his arms casually over his chest, apparently perfectly at east with the presence of their mystery guest. 

When the visitor reached up, however, pushing back the broad, black hood that covered her face, revealing classically lovely features, big, clear, blue eyes, and a long fall of wavy, strawberry blonde hair, there was more than one person in the room who recognized her immediately. Though it was doubtful anyone was more surprised to see her than Nightcrawler.

"Amanda?!" Kurt's golden eyes went wide as he stared at the woman who was both his foster sister and long time love. "Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, Liebschen, but....What are you doing here?"

Amanda Sefton, aka Daytripper - or, more recently, Magik, keeper of the Soulsword - spared a brief, somewhat tight, smile for her former lover. Glad as she was to see Kurt, regardless of any problems remaining between them, the business that brought her here was not pleasant and there really wasn't any time to waste on small talk. 

"Hello, Kurt." Briefly, her eyes roamed the room as she nodded to the assembled team of mutants. "Everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering what I'm doing here, so let me get straight to the point. We have a problem. I need to see Kitty. As soon as possible."

"Then we all got th' same problem, 'Manda." Logan spoke up, catching the sorceress's gaze across the room. "Seems Kits disappeared."

All the strength seemed to drain out of Amanda's body as she brought a hand up to rake through her long, reddish gold, locks. "Oh, God. That's what I was afraid of. Do you have any idea where she is? We've got to find her. And we've got to do it now."

From her left, Peter stood, coming to stand beside her, laying his large hand on her arm. "Amanda, what is it? What has happened?" There was a cold, hard ball of dread certainty lodged in his throat. He hadn't thought he could be any more frightened for Kitty, but he'd just been proven wrong. 

If Amanda was here, seeking Kitty, due to some sort of problem, there was only one thing it could be. The big Russian prayed to God that he was wrong. There were, indeed, some things that could befall Kitty that were far worse than the Legacy cure.

Amanda turned to him then, her face pale, electric blue eyes clouded with worry, and Peter knew the answer, knew what had been bothering Kitty all these months. He instantly knew why she'd left, why she hadn't wanted anyone to know about it, and why she hadn't been willing to make him any promises. 

One cannot make promises on a future that may not exist for them.

The sorceress and reluctant Queen of Limbo laid her slim, cool hand over his, and nodded, confirming the question she saw in his eyes, her own brimming with tears. "I'm sorry, Peter. I don't know what happened. I don't know **how** it happened. It shouldn't have been possible."

The big man simply closed his eyes, nodding, as he dropped his hand from her arm. Slowly, her returned to his seat on the couch, refusing to speak again, despite Ororo's and Rogue's gentle, persistent, inquiries.

Around the room, several of the newer X-Men watched the incomprehensible scene, looking lost and confused, wondering if they'd missed part of the conversation somehow. For others, however, those that had been around for a while, their faces slowly transformed, staring toward Amanda in shock or disbelief, as understanding dawned. Many of them had been to Limbo, or had been acquainted with Illyana Rasputin, as well as the Soulsword. And they knew what this visit meant.

"Would someone mind telling the new guy what the hell is going on?" Neal demanded, completely confused by the exchange he'd just witnessed. It seemed the longer he stayed, the weirder this place, and this group, became. Obviously, several of the X-Men knew this woman, but he had no idea who she was, or what her connection might be to Kitty. Or Kurt. Or Peter, for that matter. And why did some of the team suddenly look like they'd been hit over the head with a bat?

Amanda turned to him then, and he was surprised at the keen, quick, intelligence shining in those bright blue eyes, as well as the unmistakable feeling of power rolling off the woman in waves. Who the hell was this person?

"Excuse me." Taking a few steps closer, she stopped in front of Neal Shaara, looking him over. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Amanda Sefton."

She held out her hand to him and he took it automatically. "Neal. Neal Shaara."

"Well, Neal, since you ask so nicely, I'll tell you what's going on. And it may very well involve hell, if we don't get it sorted out. And very quickly." With that somewhat menacing comment, she turned, addressing the room. "Last night, completely out of the blue, the Soulsword disappeared from Limbo. I've been trying to call it back, but it won't respond. Then, I tried to find Kitty by scrying for her. It didn't work. I can't locate her at all. Which can only mean she has the sword and it's shielding her..."

"Which is what I was just trying to tell everyone." Betsy interjected softly, miserably. "Kitty told me a while back, while we were both in the medlab after that incident in the Danger Room, that the sword had been coming to her, calling her, for quite some time now. That it wanted her to reclaim it." She looked up at the people gathered around her, her face a picture of misery and guilt. "She said it would take her eventually, whether she wanted it to or not. Maybe....maybe it finally did."

"If that's true," Peter spoke up grimly into the silent, stunned room. "then anything else we do will be pointless. Katya is already lost to us."

Without further preamble, the tall Russian stood and left the room.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Sitting on her bed, in the room which had been her bedroom for the last five years, the lovely young woman stared at the bookcase against the far wall, torn by indecision.

She knew it was there. Waiting. Just as it had been waiting since the day they'd come here, to this place, over seven years ago. Waiting for this day, this time. Waiting to return.

And, now, the time had come. Or, very nearly, anyway. Soon, they would leave this place which had become her home. 

Something had happened, last night or early this morning, that had set things in motion, though she didn't know if the event had been for good or ill. But, regardless, the last act would soon play out.

Funny. She'd thought she'd be more excited, more anxious, to return to the place where she truly belonged. To the people she had known, the family she'd left behind. But now, she found it wasn't quite that simple.

What would she tell them? How would she possibly explain the circumstances that had lead to her coming here, while someone else took her place there? Would they even believe her?

After all, they would have no reason to. She'd seen to that, had arranged things in such a way that they really wouldn't be questioned. It had been necessary at the time and it had been the best option open to her.

Now, however, it was going to present some considerable problems. 

Things would have changed there, just as they had here, just as they had for her. Everyone would be older, their lives would be different. The world would be different, for better or for worse. She prayed it was for the better.

Her thoughts turned to her friends, to one friend in particular, and she wondered how that young woman might have changed. They were the same age, both in their early twenties, now. Had she married? Started a family perhaps? If so, she wondered with whom and if she was happy.

She wondered how much recent and coming events might be disrupting the life she had now. Her heart twisted as she thought of what her friend might be going through and she wished, for the millionth upon millionth time, that she could have at least been allowed to get her a message, to tell her the truth she had learned of the situation, of how wrong they'd all been about everything. 

As she'd learned over her time here, during her studies of the book and the knowledge it contained, nothing had been as they'd believed it to be. It had all been a carefully constructed web of lies to keep them all apart, to make them distrust the very things that they needed to accept.

But she hadn't been able to tell her that. The book had made it very plain that her friend would have to figure it all out for herself, the hard way, just as she had. She wouldn't accept the knowledge any other way. And, if she didn't accept her destiny, if they all didn't accept their destiny, then it was over before it had even begun.

There was a battle coming, the last in a war that had lasted millennia. A war that they couldn't afford to lose.

The young woman realized she was afraid. Afraid of going back, of facing the legacy she'd left behind. Afraid that they might turn her away after all this time, that they might not be able to accept her. Afraid of facing the Destiny that awaited them all. Afraid of succeeding, but even more afraid that they would fail. Afraid as she hadn't been since she was six years old.

But she couldn't indulge that fear. Not now. The time for fear was long past. It was time to accept what fate had in store for her and hope that the others could do the same. They were the Warriors, the last of the line. Failure was not an option for them.

Standing, she walked toward the bookcase and stood, staring down at it, the late morning sun streaming through the window catching the pale highlights in her wavy blonde hair, causing them to glint like slim threads of silver woven through the gold.

Midnight blue eyes, rimmed by impossibly long, black lashes, automatically came to rest on the volume she sought and she knelt down, reaching out one slim, delicate hand to snag it from the shelf.

Taking it to the small desk in the corner, she sat, as she had so many times before and opened the tome to the first page. 

The words and images were not new to her. She'd read them over many times in the years since she'd come here, but it wouldn't hurt to refresh her knowledge. She would need every advantage she could gain in preparation for what was to come.

She gazed down at the images and the words on the opening page, familiar to her as her own name.

A bird of fire. A glowing silver sword. A book, bound in leather, it's title written in Latin.

The very book that she now held in her hands. 

And beneath the images was written, in a language that she'd never seen before, but could read none-the-less:

_There is Power. There is Justice. There is Knowledge.And the Keeper holds the Key._

_To the **one** who is worthy to open and read of the book of the knowledge of the ages,_

_Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen,_

_For, behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it._

_***************************************************************************************************************************_

Folding the last of his clothes, Peter placed them into the second of two suitcases sitting on his bed, laying them as flat as possible and leaving just enough room for the last thing he would take with him.

Going to the small desk that had been in his room since he'd first come to the X-Men, he opened the bottom left-hand drawer and took out a long, padded, manilla envelope. Taking it with him, he returned to his bed, sat down, and opened the large hatbox of pictures that Kitty had left.

Carefully, he removed the pictures and placed them, one by one, into the envelope, taking a moment to examine each in turn. Most he recognized easily, pictures of Doug Ramsey, his sister Illyana – as both child and teenager - Moira, Scott, Lockheed, Joseph, Pete Wisdom, and the list went on and on. A few, however, were unknown to him, but he put them all into the envelope with equal care.

So very many. Why had he never truly realized how very many people Kitty had lost in her life? Perhaps, if he had, he would have put more consideration into his admittedly ill-considered idea to spread the Legacy cure by injecting himself. Perhaps he would have spared her at least that pain. 

His only consolation, at the moment, was that they had managed to reconcile at the last, that they had managed to steal those few, precious hours together, before this final parting. And he had no doubt, with the information that Amanda had brought to them, that it was final. If the Soulsword had come to her again, Kitty would not stay and risk endangering those closest to her. Just as Illyana had struggled to do, she would struggle to protect them, even at the cost of her own soul.

In that way, as well as many others, the two had been much alike. It was probably why they had become such close friends. Both Katya and Illyana were warriors at heart, willing to fight until the very end, willing to die a thousand times over to protect those they loved, even those they didn't know. 

How ironic that they should both succumb to the same fate in the end. 

Yes, the Legacy virus was what had actually killed his sister, but Limbo, Belasco, and the Soulsword were what had destroyed her. Had it not been for the Soulsword, Illyana would never have become the Darkchylde, would never have had to sacrifice herself to stop the Inferno. And, perhaps, would never have contracted the Legacy virus. Had it not been for the Soulsword, he and Kitty might, even now, be planning a life together, a future.

Instead, he was left with nothing but memories, old photographs, and the ashes of his hopes and dreams. 

A soft knock at his door interrupted his reflections, and he turned to find Amanda and Betsy standing there in the hallway, just outside his room.

"May we come in, Peter?" Amanda asked, with a somewhat hesitant smile. She had failed this young man, and Kitty as well, in the worst way she could imagine, though she was still at a loss to explain exactly what had gone wrong. She didn't have any right to expect that he would want to talk to her at all, but here were some questions she needed answers to and she was hoping he might still be willing to help her. 

After all, they had been friends for many years. The beautiful sorceress was hoping that might yet count for something.

"If you wish." he replied with a nod as he continued to remove pictures from the box beside him and transfer them to the envelope. 

Stepping inside, Betsy Braddock stopped short, taking in the empty closet, the packed suitcases and looked at her team mate in stunned surprise. "Peter, are you leaving?"

"Da, Elisabeth. It is time for me to go, move on with my life." He said it as if it were the most reasonable, most obvious, thing in the world, but the two women turned to one another in shock. When had this happened? 

Moving to the bed, Amanda shoved one the suitcases aside so that she could sit down next to the big Russian. Turning to him, she reached out, taking the picture he was holding and laying it aside so that she could take his hand in hers.

"Mind telling me what brought this on, Peter? If you're going to look for Kitty..."

But Peter didn't give her a chance to finish. "Nyet. She asked me not to follow her, and I will respect her wishes. Besides, I am sure Logan, Kurt, and Ororo will look hard enough for all of us. There are other things I must do."

Though he was talking to her, at least, his face remained impassive and Amanda knew he was closing himself off, shutting everything out so that he didn't have to think about the current situation. She'd seen him do it before and found it very frustrating. It was very difficult to deal with him, to get through to him, when he was this way. It was almost like talking to an animated, stone statue.

She remembered Kitty once saying that, when Peter was threatened emotionally by something he wouldn't, or couldn't, deal with, that he retreated behind a wall of cold, Russian stoicism, just as he would retreat behind his armored skin when threatened physically.

"She was right." Amanda mumbled to herself. "You **are** still really, really Russian."

He turned back to her then, his head tilted as he gave her a startled look. "What did you say?"

Patting his arm, Amanda gave him a humorless smile. "I was just remembering something Kitty told me once. About you. She said you were very Russian when you wanted to be. That you could throw up a wall around yourself and your emotions that was as solid as your organic metal armor. I think she was right."

Both women saw the bright flicker of pain flash in his eyes, just before he closed them and dropped his head, speaking so softly that even Amanda, sitting right next to him, barely heard what he said.

"Da. She said much the same to me. I believe it was only last night, though it seems like a lifetime ago."

"Oh, Peter. I'm sorry." One delicate hand went to her mouth as she realized she'd probably said the very worst thing she possibly could have. She hadn't meant to hurt him anymore than he already was. ""But...oh, God. I don't know what to say. She's my friend, too. I've known her since she was nothing but a skinny, bright eyed little kid, who talked a mile a minute and thought being an X-Man was the only thing in life worth doing." Her breath caught, hitched, and the normally composed Amanda Sefton burst into tears. "I love her, too, Peter and I feel as if I've failed her as miserably as humanly possible. And there's nothing I can do, no way I can make it right."

"No, Amanda," Betsy came to her, laying a hand on Amanda's shoulder as her own eyes again filled with tears, looking more and more miserable by the minute. "This is all my fault. I should never have promised Kitty I wouldn't say anything about the Soulsword. If I'd only spoken up...."

Peter cut her off then, putting one arm around Amanda and holding his hand out to the former telepath. "Elisabeth, come here." She took it and he pulled her to sit on his other side, wrapping his arm around her as well as he looked from one woman to the other. 

If he'd ever thought he was the only one concerned for Kitty and upset by present circumstances, this current situation would have laid those thoughts to rest. But, Peter had never imagined that he was the only person in the world who cared for her, who worried about her. Just as Amanda and Betsy were upset by all this, so were Ororo, Rogue, Logan, Kurt, and even Bobby. 

How could it possibly be otherwise? Kitty was a such an easy person to love. 

"Elisabeth, this is not your fault. Nor is it yours, Amanda. For reasons we may never know, the Soulsword is as bonded to Kitty was it was to Illyana. That it would eventually return to her was inevitable."

"But, that's just the thing." Amanda broke in, her voice muffled against his chest, frustration ringing in her clear voice. "Why is it bonded to Kitty? And why should it be inevitable that it would come back to her?" Tilting her head up, the former stewardess wiped at her damp cheek, her face a mask of confusion. "Peter, this shouldn't have happened. What I did to break the swords bond with Kitty, and bond it to myself, should have been permanent. She should have had absolutely no tie to it at all. I never understood why she did in the first place. If the sword should have gone to anyone, it should have been you, Illyana's brother, her closest living relative."

"The puzzle of the Soulsword is one I ceased trying to solve long ago." Peter responded with quiet resignation. "All I really know of it is that it has taken from me the two things I loved most in the world."

"I know this is very hard for you," Amanda began hesitantly, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. She was reluctant to force him to keep talking about something that so obviously hurt him very deeply, but there were some things he needed to know, for his own sake. Just as there were things she needed him to tell her. "It's not particularly easy for us either. But there's something else you need to know, something Kitty told Betsy while they were in the medlab. That's why we came up here."

At this, the big man shifted his attention, focusing on his lavender haired team mate as she again chewed nervously on the already ragged nail of her index finger.

Seeing her distress, his face softened even more and he pulled her against his side in a one-armed hug. Betsy had ever been a good friend to him and if she felt it was important, then it probably was. "Come, little one. Talk to me. Tell me what it is I need to know."

After a moments hesitation, Betsy sighed, plucking at invisible lint on her cream colored slacks as she tried to ascertain the best way to tell him what, she knew, would only hurt him more. How, she asked herself, had things gotten in such a huge mess so quickly?

Peter didn't push her, simply sat, waiting patiently, until she looked up at him. Gone was the normal laughter and good humor that could nearly always be found dancing in those exotic violet eyes. In it's place, was grief, pain, and guilt nearly as fathomless as his own. 

_**Such is the legacy of the Soulsword on all that it touches.**_

The thought came, unbidden, into his head, but it was true. Never had that mystical sword brought anything but hurt, death, and destruction to all that it came into contact with.

"When Kitty told me about the Soulsword, she also told me that the sword didn't just want her. Peter, she said it wants you as well." Betsy stated quietly.

His brows knit together in puzzlement, Peter looked at her uncomprehendingly. "I do not understand. Why would the sword have any interest in me? It certainly never has before. At least that I am aware of."

"Who knows." Amanda answered, leaning against his side, her hands folded in her lap. "It's just one more mystery that goes with that damned sword. Nothing about it makes any sense. And the more I learn about it, the less sense it makes."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, turning his attention toward the sorceress as she shrugged, giving him an exasperated half-smile. Looking back and forth between one woman and the other as he was, he was beginning to feel like he was watching a tennis match. 

"Like I said before, there's no reason for the sword to have even been bonded to Kitty in the first place. It would have made more sense for it to come to you. But it didn't. Only, now, if what Kitty told Betsy is true, it may very well be trying to reach you through Kitty. But why now, after all this time has passed? What's happened recently that would change things? And why didn't I have any warning that this was coming? None of it makes any sense."

Peter nodded absently, seemingly lost in thought for a few moments before turning back to Amanda curiously. "Amanda, there is also something I have wondered about for some time. The sword corrupted Illyana, as well as Kitty the few times it came to her, yet you seem to wield it with no harmful effects." He nodded toward her. "Or it appears so, anyway. You seem as you always have."

"You're right. It hasn't caused me any undue problems." She smiled wryly then, her full, rose colored lips curving on one side. "At least until now. And, again, I have no explanation, other than my mother telling me, years ago, that it would be my destiny to wield the sword."

"Destiny." Peter replied bitterly. "Always it comes back to Destiny. It seems I have heard or thought of nothing else in my entire existence lately, other than Destiny."

"I'm sorry, Peter, but you've lost me." Elisabeth put in. "I know we've been talking a lot about the Diaries and such...."

A shake of Peter's head stopped her as he turned back to face her. "Nyet. Not just the diaries, but Destiny herself. Irene Adler. Have you read the diary that Ororo has? Do you know how she came to have it?"

"Well, I haven't really sat down and read it." Betsy replied with a shrug, having no idea where this conversation was drifting off to, or what Destiny's diaries might possibly have to do with the Soulsword. "Sage has it, doing all kinds of research on it most of the time, but I know that Kitty was the one who originally found it."

"Da." Peter nodded. "But not so much found it as was drawn to it. It was hidden inside a picture frame in one of Mystique's houses, with instructions that only Katya would have been able to interpret, and concealed in such a way that only she would have been able to remove it. And that is only the beginning. At every turn, Kitty somehow seems tied either to the woman herself or the diaries. Frankly, I find it disturbing, to say the least."

"Strange." Amanda's brows knit together as she considered what Peter had said. Like pieces of a puzzle, her mind was trying to fit it all together, make a complete picture, but there just wasn't enough information. "Almost in the same way that the sword is drawn to her." A thought suddenly struck her and her eyes jumped back up to Peter's face. "Wasn't there something, some connection, at one point, with Illyana and the Diaries. Or was it Illyana and Destiny?"

Betsy only looked confused, but Peter nodded. "Da. There was. It happened while we were in Australia, the world believing us dead. Rhane told me about it later." Exhaling heavily, Peter thought back, trying to put it all in order in his mind. He only had second hand information to go on, but he believed what Rhane had told him was accurate. 

"I am not completely clear on all the details, but at some point, Illyana encountered Irene Adler, who predicted the Inferno and also told her that she must 'leave earth and learn' or humanity would suffer a terrible fate. The prophecy seemed to come true. It was shortly after that when she tried to destroy Limbo with the Soulsword, stabbing it into the ground." Here he shrugged helplessly. "From what Rhane told me, instead of destroying Limbo, it transformed at least part of it into a paradise. A short time later, Illyana was found by Professor Xavier and the Shi'ar, drifting in space, her Darkchylde persona purged. She would have remained so, had she not been forced to reclaim the sword..."

"Wait...wait." Betsy held up one slim hand, tears forgotten as she tried to make sense of the jumbled story Peter had just told them. Though she hadn't been with the X-Men as long as he had, or Kitty, she'd been around long enough to live through some pretty senseless situations, but this didn't make sense at all, even to someone used to such things. "Peter, how on earth could a weapon tainted by evil and corruption turn **anywhere** into a paradise. It makes absolutely no bloody sense. If anything, the opposite should have happened. The sword should have turned Limbo into a true Hell."

"Actually," Amanda spoke up thoughtfully, one slender finger tapping against her chin as wheels turned in her mind. "it makes perfect sense, if you consider that the sword itself may not actually be evil..."

Peter flinched back at her words, almost as if he'd been slapped, and he stopped just short of glaring at Amanda. "How could it be other than evil? Look what it did to Illyana, and what it is trying to do to Kitty now, what it has done to her in the past. Surely you are not suggesting that the fault lies within Kitty and Illyana for the evil done in the name of that sword?"

"Oh, no." Amanda hurried to reassure him. She hadn't meant to say it exactly in that way and she certainly hadn't meant to imply that Kitty or Illyana were at fault for what had happened to them, or what they had done under the swords influence. "That's not at all what I meant. But, there has to be a reason why neither of them could wield it, while it hasn't really affected me in one way or the other. Or, at least, I don't think it has..."

"I'm sorry, Amanda." Betsy leaned out slightly, looking across Peter at the woman on his other side. "I've got to agree with Peter on this one. I don't see how that thing can be anything but evil, especially after being drug along for the ride in one of those dreams it was sending Kitty."

"Dreams?" Both Amanda and Peter gaped at her, speaking at the same time. "What dreams?"

Leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, Betsy rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes against the unholy horror she'd been trying to forget for weeks. Just one session had nearly driven her mad. How on earth did Kitty stand it, how did she hold out against that kind of mental and emotional torture, night after night? 

"I tried to forget them. God, how I wanted to forget. But maybe if I tell you, it might help in some way." Taking a deep, calming breath, Betsy held it, then exhaled slowly, repeating the process several times as she forced herself to relax and relay the details calmly. It was much more difficult than it sounded. Even the idea of remembering made her sick to her stomach. 

But, remember she didi. Slowly, painfully, forcing the words out, Betsy told them about the dreams, what Kitty believed were visions, of the fate of the first set of X-Men to visit Limbo. She did her very best to relate the details as accurately as possible. How Wolverine was killed, how Kurt was turned into a monster, a thing as evil as Belasco himself. How Kitty was, unintentionally, left behind by that teams Storm and Colossus, left at the hands of Belasco and his demons, imprisoned, tortured, raped, as the Demon Lord tried, unsuccessfully, to corrupt her to his will. 

And how she was finally rescued, only to watch the man she loved die while defending her, leaving her broken and alone. By the time she was finished, the British ninja was wrung out, drained, left weak and shaking, by the power of that remembered horror. Her audience was in little better shape. 

Peter and Amanda sat, stunned, horrified, and sickened by what they'd heard. Even the thought of such things being done to Kitty, even if it were technically not **his** Kitty, pierced Peter to his very soul and made him physically ill. For the first time in his life, since the day they had all been pulled into Limbo, Peter was actually thankful they had all escaped the experience as undamaged as they had. 

For the first time, he realized how very much worse it could have been and he spared a thought for that earlier Illyana, who had been saved only at the expense of the lives of those closest to her. Who had, most likely, been sent back to a world where she was alone, where she had to live with the knowledge that nearly everyone she knew and loved was lost so that she could return home. 

"And Katya believed these dreams were real? That they actually happened?" 

"Yes." Betsy nodded. "And I have to agree with her. The images didn't have the quality of dreams or nightmares. They were memories. Very vivid, very horrible, and very, very real."

Amanda, who had been listening to Betsy with quiet horror, nodded slowly. "It definitely fits in with what little we already know of that first team and explains a lot of things we weren't sure about before. I remember Kurt having nightmares about that place for weeks after you all got back. Coming face to face with what amounted to himself, only twisted in the worst possible way, really threw him for a loop."

"Da." The young man confirmed, remembering that first visit to Limbo and the sight of his own remains, hanging on a corridor wall, his own nightmares that had followed that experience. "I remember it all very well. In fact, it is etched so deeply on my memory, I doubt I will ever forget. But we never truly knew what happened to those first X-Men, other than most of them died."

"Well, I do." Betsy stated flatly, shuddering at the memories. "And, believe me, you're better off not having those images in your head in glorious, full color and surround sound." 

"I don't understand." Amanda rubbed her eyes tiredly. The more she heard, the less she understood. Instead of clearing anything up, this new information just brought more questions. "Not that that's anything new right now." she added dryly. "But what does the fate of the first group of X-Men in Limbo have to do with the Soulsword? It belonged to our Illyana, not theirs."

"I'm not so sure about that." Betsy said slowly, remembering more and more details of the dream as she cracked the door she'd closed it all off behind wider and wider. "Belasco, the horrible things he did to Cat - that team's Kitty - were part of a ritual....a spell." She told Amanda as it all came flooding back. "A spell he used to call the Soulsword. And not only that." She turned directly to Peter then, ignoring Amanda's gaping surprise at that statement, laying a hand on his arm. "I don't know how much you really know about your sister's time in Limbo, the seven years she spent there before she was brought back here...."

"Very little." Peter admitted. "It was not something she was ever comfortable talking about. In truth, I believe she confided much more to Kitty concerning that time than she did me."

"There's a reason for that. The other Kitty...Cat...practically raised Illyana, protected her, taught her to fight, tried to return her home. Peter, she sacrificed everything she was to try and save your sister. Belasco caught them, though, before they could get free, destroyed Cat's humanity, took Illyana as his apprentice. But it was what Cat had taught her that finally enabled Illyana to break from him. If it weren't for her, you sister would have never been able to come back home." 

"Wait. Hang on a minute." Amanda, having finally regained her wits, jumped in. "Go back a minute. Are you telling me that Belasco used **Cat** to call the Soulsword? Before our team of X-Men, our Illyana, ever went into Limbo?"

"Yes." Betsy confirmed, not really seeing the point her friend was trying to make. "So?"

"So....that means," Amanda replied thoughtfully, "that the Soulsword didn't originate with Illyana, that she only called it up somehow. It may not even have originated with the first Kitty that went into Limbo, but it definitely points, yet again, to some kind of on-going connection between Kitty and the Soulsword. My God," she breathed, looking from Peter to Betsy and back again. "this changes everything." 

***********************************************************************************************************************

At a small college campus on the opposite side of the country, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as a young woman stirred in bed, slowly waking from a dream of flying through the stars on wings of fire.

Blinking to clear the sleep from her bright green eyes, she sat up slowly, letting the thin sheet and blanket pool at her waist. 

Quietly, she waited, listening for a sound she knew would not come from without, but from within. She had heard it only a moment ago. A familiar song, the clear, sweet call with which she was intimately familiar.

When it had left, she hadn't known why, hadn't known if it would ever return. It had left her feeling empty and alone, with no explanation for it's departure. But now, it was returning, calling to her, telling her it was on it's way. And she could feel it, drawing closer, soaring through the cosmos on powerful wings of flame, with a song in it's heart. 

She didn't know yet what the song meant, but she knew something important was coming, something that would change her life forever. 

Throwing back the covers, she swung her slender, bare legs over the edge of the bed and padded silently to the one small, easterly facing window in her room.

One graceful hand pulled back the lacy, green curtains hanging there as the other absently swept a stray lock of long, flame red hair from her face. 

Peering out, she watched the rising sun as it crested just above the horizon, silently wondering to herself why everything of importance seemed to happen either in the middle of the night or so early in the morning that the birds were barely awake. Another couple of hours of sleep would have been nice. But her grousing was good natured as she watched expectantly, waiting for what she knew would come, for the event she'd been awakened at this ungodly hour to witness.

As soon as the orange ball of flame that was the early morning sun cleared the hills in the distance, it transformed, only for a split second, into a massive bird of flame that spread it's wings wide enough to nearly engulf the world. Raising it's magnificent, fiery head, it turned, seeming to look directly at her, and the young woman smiled.

Reaching out with her thoughts, she tried to contact it, to let it know she was there. But she should have known it would already be aware of her. 

The image soon began to fade, the sun once more becoming nothing more than a burning orb of gas and light in the sky. But, before it dissipated completely, the cosmic entity known as the Phoenix sent out a thought to the young woman awaiting it's arrival.

Images popped into her mind. The huge bird of fire, power signature of the Phoenix. A glowing, silver sword. A book bound in leather, it's title written in Latin.

_There is Power. There is Justice. There is Knowledge. And the Keeper holds the Key._

_To the **one** who is worthy to be clothed in the Power of the sun, the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of stars, _

_Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen,_

_For, behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it._

_***********************************************************************************************************************_

"I am sorry, Amanda," Peter sighed in frustration - a feeling he was becoming quite well acquainted with - as he raked a hand through his already disheveled, dark, mop of hair. "How does this change anything? We do not know for certain that this information is anything more than a nightmare. It might all mean nothing."

"No." the sorceress asserted with a terse shake of her head, long, strawberry blond hair fanning out around her at the motion. "I don't think so. It explains too much that we didn't have an explanation for before. Specifically, at least part of Kitty's connection to the Soulsword." Standing up, the former stewardess began pacing back and forth, her brows knit together in deep thought, as she pondered what they'd just learned. "What if the sword weren't actually part of Illyana, as we always thought? What if she only managed to call it up, through her connection to Kitty, because Kitty wouldn't, or couldn't, at the time?"

"I'm with Peter." Betsy put in, giving Amanda a tired look and leaning back against Peter's arm. "You've lost me, again. Though I know what I saw, what Kitty and I saw, was far more than a nightmare, I don't see how it really changes anything. Are you saying that the sword may actually belong to Kitty? If that's true, then why would it be a danger to her, as it so clearly is? And why did it present the same kind of danger to Illyana? But not to you? I'm afraid I just don't understand any of this."

"I know, I know." Amanda sighed, stopping to stand in front of the British X-woman. "There's too much of the puzzle we still don't have the pieces to. Is there anything else, Betsy? From the dreams, from what Kitty told you? Anything, no matter how small or insignificant it might be, that you remember?" 

Betsy was quiet as she thought through all that she'd seen, all that Kitty had told her, trying to pick through and find anything she might have missed. Then, she looked back to Amanda and nodded thoughtfully.

"I remember, vaguely, something the Soulsword said, at the end of the dream....something about power, and a key, and knowledge......" her voice trailed as she shook her head in annoyance. "No that's not it. Damn. I'm sorry, Amanda. I really can't remember much more. I was coming out of it by then. All I can really remember are vague images and words. Something about a...bird, maybe. Or maybe it was a book. I just don't know. I know the Soulsword said something about.....I think it went 'That which is unwilling cannot truly be corrupted.' Or words to that effect."

Amanda had gone very still, staring at Betsy in frank disbelief. "Betsy, are you telling me that you actually heard the Soulsword **speak** to Kitty?"

"Sure." the other woman replied with a shrug. "It spoke to her in the dream. Kitty didn't seemed surprised by it. Bloody thing's apparently very talkative, from what she said. Why? What did you think I meant when I said it called to her?"

"Frankly, I thought it was a figure of speech, something used to describe an impulse, a compulsion. I've never heard it actually speak, as if it were...aware. As far as I've known, it's an inanimate object. Mystical, but inanimate." She turned to Peter then, who looked as much at a loss as she was. "Did Illyana ever say anything about the sword talking to her? Calling her?" 

"No. Never." He looked back at Amanda, puzzled. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know, Peter. But it's one more piece of the puzzle...."

"Oh," Betsy spoke up again suddenly and both Peter and Amanda turned to her expectantly. "There was one more thing. Kitty said that the Bloodstone Amulet was also manifesting, along with the Soulsword. Said she'd wake up from those bloody horrible dreams to find she was holding it."

"The what?" Amanda asked, but she noticed that Peter seemed to know what the other woman was talking about. 

"The Bloodstone Amulet." Peter answered her quietly, sadly. "I had almost forgotten about it. It was an ancient amulet that Belasco gave to Illyana. Inside was a pentagram with a place for five stones, one at each point. He made three of the stones by corrupting Illyana's soul, but she broke from him before he could complete the set. Though she never said what would happen if all five stones were laid, I got the impression that it would be something horrible."

"So what else is new?" Amanda mumbled. "My question is, how is it tied to the Soulsword? Or is it tied to it at all?"

"I do not know." Peter replied flatly, standing and beginning to gather up the rest of Kitty's pictures. He had heard more than enough about the Soulsword, the Bloodstone Amulet, Kitty's horrible nightmares, and everything else that went with it. All this new information had done was convince him further just how hopeless the situation truly was. "Just as I do not know how any of this, however interesting, can change the fact that Kitty is missing and we will probably never see her again." Wearily, he turned back to the two women, that wall crashing back down around him as abruptly as it had lifted a short while ago. "Now, if you do not mind, I have a flight I have to make in only a couple of hours."

Blinking at the abrupt dismissal, Betsy stood, turning to him to lay a hand gently on his arm. "Peter, won't you reconsider? I know this has been a horrible day, preceded by a horrible night, but things will get better. I know they will. Just as I know that we'll find Kitty. Won't you please stay? At least until tomorrow? Things may look very different then..."

When he spoke, he did so without turning, his voice quiet but firm. "No. Kitty asked this of me and I will do as she wanted. It may very well be the last thing I am ever able to offer her." The big man's voice cracked then, and he gripped the bedpost so hard that he nearly cracked the wood. "Now, please. Leave me in peace."

After a moment, Betsy let her hand drop back to her side and to Amanda helplessly. The sorceress only nodded sadly, reluctantly. She knew Peter well enough to know that, if his mind were made up, they wouldn't be able to change it. Not now. Not when he was so upset. Perhaps a change would be good for him.

As the two women left, Peter finished transferring the last of the pictures to the padded envelope, placed it into his suitcase and closed the lid. Picking up his two bags, he strode from the room, from the Westchester mansion, from Charles Xavier and the X-Men. 

He didn't once look back.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Peter's departure had been yet another unexpected blow to the residents of Graymalkin Ln. There had been shock, pleading, tears, and even a few harsh words, but, in the end, there was no dissuading the Russian X-Man. He had calmly, almost emotionlessly, taken his bags to the waiting taxi, climbed in and drove away, not even telling them where he was going. All he would say was that he would contact them once he was settled. Once he'd had some time to think.

Feeling like shell shocked survivors of a war that had dropped onto their heads from out of nowhere, the remaining mutants had slowly filed back inside to decide on their next step. And, all the while, each one of them was privately wondering what new horror this day, which had barely begun, might hold.

As decisions were made on who would do what in the search for Kitty, people began to drift off, on their way to make phone calls, canvass local bus stops and airport terminals, or check in with the local hospitals and police stations. 

Just in case, they all kept telling themselves. Plan for the worst, but hope for the best. 

Only several of them believed the motto should be more like, "Plan for the worst and hope for something short of complete and total annihilation", especially where the X-Men were concerned. Most of it was just busy work, and they all knew it. 

It was all the things people do when a loved one is missing and they don't have the first clue where to start looking. 

How the heck could they track a girl who's as good as a ghost, who can phase herself into the very earth and ride it like an amusement park merry go round, traveling at hundreds of miles per hour as the planet rotated? For all they knew, Kitty could be in California by now and they would have no way to pick up her movements.

The information that Amanda and Betsy had given them concerning the part the Soulsword was playing in this already convoluted situation had only made it less likely that they would be able to find Shadowcat. And some of them had to wonder, with this new information and what they already knew of the Soulsword and Limbo, if they even wanted to. 

With the Soulsword involved, what they found, if they found her at all, might not be anything resembling the Kitty that they all knew, that they all loved. What they might very well find was a demon wearing their friends face.

As the room emptied, Logan and Kurt stayed behind, discussing their plan of action as they prepared to go out into the wide world and try to pick up her trail, if such a thing were possible. The only real starting place they had was the address of the short term parking garage Kitty had left as the place Logan could pick up her little Sportster.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

They were both so preoccupied with the task at hand, that neither of them noticed Rogue, coming to the door, face pale and drawn, eyes tear stained. Finally, she cleared her throat, stepping slowly into the room as the two men looked up at her questioningly.

"Did ya need somethin' else, Rogue?" Logan asked absently, his mind flipping through a million possibilities of where Kitty could have gone and how she could have gotten there. 

He was so preoccupied, that he never noticed how upset the young woman was, even more so than when she'd left the room earlier, after watching yet another friend disappear.

"Actually, Ah need to talk to ya. Both of ya. I just got a phone call...." Her voice broke then and she looked away, closing her eyes against a fresh bout of tears. She'd thought things had been about as bad as they could get when she'd left this room earlier, but the call she'd just taken had proven her very wrong. Things were about to get so much worse.

Kurt looked up at her then, and immediately snapped to attention. It only took one look at the young woman's face to realized that this was, indeed, something very serious. "What is it, Liebe? Are you all right?"

With a sob, Rogue dropped down into a nearby chair, hanging her head and staring at her hands as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

"No, Ah'm not. Not at all." Her shoulders started to shake then and she covered her face with her gloved hands as she wept. Logan and Kurt exchanged a look, then both men were on their feet and standing beside the obviously upset young woman.

"Bitte....Liebe, what is it?" Fear was clawing at Kurt like a living thing as one single thought, one horrible, sickening suspicion, swirled round and round in his mind. It was so unthinkable that he could barely give voice to it, but he had no choice. He had to know. "Is..is it Kitty? Has something....has she been found?"

Both men held their breath until Rogue managed to slowly shake her head. "No. Not Kitty." She looked up at them then, face tear streaked, eyes red and puffy from crying. "Th' prison hospital called. It's Raven......Oh, God....Logan...Kurt...she's dead."

"What?!" Logan's mouth fell open in frank astonishment. Of all the things he'd been afraid she'd tell them, this hadn't even made his short list. How the hell was he supposed to deal with something like this, right out of the blue, on top of everything else that had happened this morning?

On the other side of Rogue, Kurt sat, though dropped might have been a more accurate description, onto the arm of his foster sister's chair, his mind suddenly blank, having no idea how he should feel about this news. Mystique. Raven Darkholme. His mother. The woman who had tried to kill him more times than he could count. The woman who had given birth to him. Dead. 

"What th' hell happened?" Logan demanded, his voice gruff. "Was she tryin' ta escape.....?"

"No." With a shake of her head Rogue cut him off, slumping forward miserably. "Nothin' like that. It's worse. Lot's worse." Before either man could question her further, she stopped them with a look, gazing from one to the other, as she gave them the answers they sought. After she did, they both wished she hadn't. "They found her durin' mornin' rounds, just lyin' there, like she was sleepin'. Nobody could figure it out....'til they found the syringe." Both men had a split second to realize what was coming next before she actually put their worst fears into words. "Guys, Ah think Kit mighta used the Legacy cure on Mystique."

***********************************************************************************************************************

The airport had been crowded and noisy, overflowing with people, the constant blare of the PA system, and the seemingly never ending screech of the metal detectors, but Peter Rasputin had welcomed the distraction. It helped take his mind off of the events of the last day or so, and of the journey ahead of him. One he was afraid would be very lonely. 

He'd checked his bags, presented his ticket, and waited in one of the hard, uncomfortable, chairs for his plane to begin boarding, passing the time by taking his sketch pad and pencil out of his carry-on and drawing, more doodling really, random people and objects in the noisy, cluttered terminal. But nothing seemed to come out right. Everything was too dark, too sad and hopeless looking. So, he tore the sketches from his pad, crumpled them up, and threw them into the nearest trash receptacle.

Now, he sat in the rather narrow commercial airline seat – Boshe moi, how long had it been since he'd taken a commercial flight anywhere? - gazing distractedly out the window, watching the clouds drift by as he crossed the Atlantic ocean. All he had left to do was wait. 

It was much easier said than done, he was quickly discovering.

Turning from the small window, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter Kitty had left him, opening it up and reading it yet again, as if there might be something there he'd missed the last half dozen times or so he'd gone over it. By this point, he could have practically recited it from memory.

Of course, nothing had changed. The words were still the same, sweet, sad, sincere, words that touched his heart at the same time that they shattered it into pieces. Until this morning, he hadn't been aware that he was still capable of hurting this much.

Letting her go, stopping himself from immediately taking off after her, trying to track her down, however impossible that might be, had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Every instinct he had screamed at him that he was making a huge mistake, that he couldn't just let her walk away. That, if he let her go now, they might never have another chance.

Compared to that, leaving the mansion, and the X-Men, had been nothing.

He knew now knew what had been bothering her, the thing that had made her run, leaving him and everyone else, all the people she considered her family, behind and it was far worse than he could have imagined.

Peter remembered vividly the early morning in the Danger Room, when she'd turned on him, struck out, the way her eyes, for that one split second, had glowed a bright, fiery red. And the sparring match with Betsy, the horrible outcome of that event.

Her eyes had been glowing that day as well, even brighter than they were before. And, somehow, even then he hadn't been able to accept Hank's theory involving some kind of tie in with the Crimson Dawn. It simply hadn't feel right.

But, looking back now, he understood why it had all felt so familiar to him, like a memory that is almost within reach, but still just beyond grasping. Peter had seen that particular phenomenon before, and he found it hard to believe, now, that he hadn't easily recognized it for what it was. He had seen the same hellish, red gleam in his sister's eyes as the Darkchylde side of her slowly but surely consumed her.

Then, he admitted to that he hadn't really wanted to puzzle it out. He hadn't wanted to let himself understand what Kitty was fighting. Because he had no way to help her. He had lost his sister to this evil. Now, he would loose Kitty as well. Had probably already lost her.

In his heart, Peter almost hoped that the Soulsword would send her for him. What would it matter now, whether his soul was his own or whether it belonged to Limbo and the sword? His heart was already gone, broken, dust. 

Kitty had been his heart, his soul. For all practical purposes, he was already damned. At least, if she came for him, they could be together. And that was far more than he could hope for in the hell he was living now. 

For now, he'd make this journey and wait, use this time as best he could in hopes that a resolution to this situation would present itself, one way or another, if given sufficient time and thought.

Kitty had asked him to do this one thing for her, the only request she'd ever really made of him in all the years they'd known one another, and Peter was determined to honor that request. It was no hardship, really. In fact, it might just do him good. His time as an X-Man had, indeed, passed it seemed. It was time to move on to something else.

So, he would do the very best he could, even though he knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be quite as good as it could have been, as it should have been. Not without her there to share it.

Without Kitty, nothing in his life would ever truly be right again.

And, if one night she appeared to him, came for him, then he would take her hand and go gladly, wherever she wanted to take him.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Logan, Kurt, Amanda, and Rogue stood in the waiting room, surrounded by the clatter of carts being pushed down the hospital corridors and the smell of alcohol, underlaid with the acrid scent of human disease.

Rogue, still not quite able to hold back her seemingly endless flood of tears, was holding fast to Kurt's hand on his left, while Amanda held to his right. The three were clasped together so tightly that their fingers would ache the next day, but none of them seemed to notice.

For a long while, the four of them stood there, not knowing what to say. Things were both better, and worse, than what they had originally feared and none of them seemed to have the energy to suggest where to go from here. It was barely noon and they were all exhausted, feeling as if weeks had gone by since they'd crawled out of bed that morning. And wondering how much longer the day might get before they crawled back into those beds tonight.

"Well," Logan finally growled into the prevailing silence. "at least we know Kit didn't do it."

"Ja. But there is also no doubt that it was her initial intention when she came here, only she apparently could not bring herself to take a life in cold blood. Even now."

"'Cept for her own." Rogue put in shakily. "Do y'all know how close she came? If Raven hadn't stopped her..."

With that, the young, southern woman broke down again and Kurt, shifting his grip from her hand to her elbow, guided her to a nearby chair, sitting her down as Amanda took a chair beside her, drawing her into an embrace. The sorceress wasn't doing much better herself and there were fresh tears streaming down her own cheeks as she tried to comfort the other woman.

"But she did stop her, Rogue. In the end, Mystique came through. She let that cold, hard shell slip and became a human being again. And she tried to atone for the things she's done, the wrongs she's committed. You shouldn't ever forget that. Because of her, thousands who were dying will soon be well and healthy again."

"Ah still can't believe she did it herself. Ah woulda never thought.....God, Amanda, Ah thought th' part of her that used ta care about other people was long dead. I wanted ta hate her for what she's done. Ah almost did, but Ah can't. Not now. Not after this."

"An' ya shouldn't." Logan told her from a few feet away. "Raven never meant ta end up like she was, here at th' last. But she let them flamin' diaries drive her crazy. Irene tried ta warn her, but she wouldn't listen. She thought she could save th' world, and all th' mutants, if she just followed those books. But that ain't how they work. Truth be told, I ain't sure **anybody** can know how they work. Includin' Irene."

The feral mutants pronouncement hung in the air, almost seeming to echo softly off the walls as silence descended again, the only sound Rogue's quiet sniffling and Amanda's soft murmuring as Kurt and Logan stared at the floor, neither one sure where to go from here. 

"You ok, Elf?" Logan asked, his gruffness hiding real concern for his long-time friend. Regardless of the fact that Raven had been a heartless bitch were Kurt was concerned, she was his mother and the feral mutant knew what a soft heart his swashbuckling, blue friend had in that hairy chest of his.

Kurt had never really come to terms with Mystique being his mother, though it had been through no fault of his own. Raven wasn't exactly the most forthcoming person on the face of the earth and it was almost as if she'd taken special pains to be as obtuse as possible where her son was concerned. Like she wanted to keep him as far away from her, emotionally and physically, as possible.

And maybe she had. She may not have been much of the maternal type, but Logan had an idea that abandoning Kurt as a baby had been a lot harder on the shape shifter than she had ever let on. Raven may have been hard, but she was still human, still had feelings, no matter how deep she might have tried to bury them.

"Ja." Kurt replied listlessly, running one three fingered hand over his short crop of dark hair, in a gesture that was as much exhaustion as frustration. "In all honesty, Mein Freund, I do not know how to feel anymore. About this," he spread his hands, palms up, indicating the hospital as well as the situation in general. "or anything else that has happened today. It has all come so fast, hit us so hard...." 

His accented voice trailed off tiredly as he shook his head, shoulders slumped, golden eyes glowing, but with none of their usual warmth or humor. "Last night, I was simply concerned about the personal relationship of two close friends. This morning, before I even got out of bed, one of those friends was already gone. Then, we are hit with Hank and Cecelia's news about the Legacy cure, then Amanda and Betsy's news about Kitty and the Soulsword. Now, Peter is gone as well - to Gott alone knows where - and we have **this** whole mess. How did it come to this so quickly?"

"Way o' life, pal. Shit usually comes in great big piles." Logan replied flatly and Kurt's head came up, the blue furred mutant regarding him in a way that told Wolverine he didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted. 

"Logan, have I ever told you what a poetic way you have with words?" Apparently, he was settling for amused as a half-smile curved one side of his mouth, revealing just a flash of sharp, white fangs. 

Logan snorted, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Just a natural gift, I guess, pal."

"So....where do we go from here? What now?" Kurt Wagner asked, as he watched Amanda continue to try and calm Rogue. His heart went out to his foster sister. Though he regretted that he would now never have the opportunity to settle things with his biological mother, she had been little more than his enemy for a great many years. Mystique had made it abundantly clear to him that she wanted no familial relationship with him at all. But Rogue was another story.

Raven had raised her as her own daughter, had loved Rogue, worried about her, been a real mother to her, or as close as it was possible for the mercenary turned terrorist to come to that role. Whatever had happened between them recently, Kurt knew Rogue very well and he knew that this would be a hard loss for her to bear. Animosity of late aside, Raven was the only mother Rogue could remember, essentially the only one she'd ever known.

"I'm goin' ta find Kit." Logan stated simply, in answer to his question, as if it would be the easiest thing in the world, when they both knew it would be anything but. "What you and 'Manda do is up ta you. I'd be glad fer ya ta come along, but I understand if ya ain't up to it right now. 'Roro's takin' her group an' headin' fer Spain, taking the long way around. Gonna keep her eyes and ears open as they travel, check in with a few contacts that might be able ta help. Rogue's goin' ta New Orleans to find Remy, once things 're settled here"

"And you?" Kurt asked, studying the Canadian closely. In all the years they'd known one another, it was still difficult, if not impossible, for him to read the other man, but it didn't stop him from trying. Occasionally, he got lucky. "Where are you going?"

"Genosha." Logan replied, saying it just the same as he would say 'I'm going to the corner store for some milk.' Kurt, however, nearly choked on his own tongue.

"Logan, are you insane?" he sputtered. "Do you realize what will be happening there in a few days, with the Legacy virus no longer killing most of the mutant population?"

"Yep. It'll be one hella'va mess. Magneto'll have a instant mutant army, his fer th' askin'. An' there ain't no tellin' what he might do with it." He flashed his teeth, the grin predatory, almost anticipatory. "But I think we can all guess what it'll be with Mags."

"Then, why on earth would you go there? What makes you believe **Kitty** would go there?" And idea struck him. An incredible idea, but an idea none-the-less. "Surely you don't believe she will go there to join up with Magneto? Or do you believe she will try to kill him?"

"Nah." Logan dismissed both ideas with a shake of his head. "Nothin' like that. She'll go there 'cause that's where her old man is. If she is loosin' the fight with th' Soulsword, she'll try an' get him out first, before she gives in to it. 'Cause she'll know what's comin', just like we do."

"How do you know all this?" Kurt asked incredulously. "I have never heard Katzchen say one word about her father being in Genosha."

"Because," Amanda broke in, coming to stand with the two men as they saw Rogue head for the ladies room. "Kitty told Peter and he mentioned it to Betsy and me just before he left. It was the only information he could give us on where she might be headed, if she was still alive."

"Gott...I still cannot believe we are in this situation, with **Kitty** of all people. She has always seemed one of the most stable among us. Nor can I believe Peter simply picked up and left with barely a word. I would have thought he would be heading the search for her." 

Amanda turned to him, slipping her hand easily into his, a habit borne of long familiarity and intimacy, as if they'd not been apart for months and months. "She asked him not to, Kurt. Where ever he went, it was because it was what Kitty wanted and he felt it was more important to do what she'd asked than to ignore her wishes and look for her. This is tearing him apart. Remember, he knows, first hand, what the Soulsword did to Illyana, what it will do to Kitty as well, if it gets the chance. And I think he's already started to accept that she's lost. Permanently."

"Well, I ain't gonna accept it. Not 'til I see it with my own eyes." Logan stated, his tone saying that he would not change his mind on this point, come hell or high water.

"Very well." Kurt relented with a sigh. He looked to Amanda and she nodded, needing no words from him to know the question he was asking. "We will go with you. But, wouldn't it be a good idea to have the rest of the team along as well? Why send Rogue to Louisiana and Storm and her team to Spain if we already know where Kitty is likely to be? I would think, in the situation we're going into, we would want all the backup we could get."

But Logan was shaking his head, vetoing the idea before Kurt had even finished. "Nope. What I gotta do, I ain't takin' th' entire spandex squad. They'd just be in the way and I want them outta our hair while we do this. We go in quiet. We keep a low profile. And we find our girl."

"And then what, Logan?" Amanda asked, her face grave. Though there were still a great many mysteries surrounding the Soulsword, one thing was absolutely clear and they all needed to understand it. In Kitty's hands, it was a powerful, possibly extremely evil, weapon and, when and if they found her, it might very well be too late to save her. "What if the person we find isn't Kitty anymore? What then?"

As Kurt and Amanda watched, Logan's face lost all expression, a emotionless mask falling in it's place, his nearly black eyes going hard and flat as obsidian. Here was The Wolverine, Weapon X, the merciless, pitiless, mercenary. When he spoke, his voice was just as hard, just as flat, just as dead, as his eyes.

"If that's th' case, then I'll deal with it when th' time comes. I made Kit a promise a while back an' I'll keep it. No matter what it takes. Even if it kills me."

***********************************************************************************************************************

Kitty closed her eyes tightly as the massive cargo plane took to the air, soaring high above JFK International Airport. Leaning her head back against one of the tarp covered lumps she was hidden between, she waited for the nausea to abate.

Normally, flying didn't bother her at all. She'd been shuttling back and forth across the country, heck across the galaxy, well before she'd been old enough to drive a car. The sky was like a second home to her, and she usually enjoyed her time in the air, whether she was flying the plane herself or was simply a passenger for the trip.

But today had been anything but a usual, normal day. 

She'd never been completely on her own before. Even with everything she'd done in her life, there had always been at least a couple of X-Men with her. Funny, she'd hadn't thought of that until now, when she was more alone than she'd ever been. 

Gone less than a day and already she missed her friends, her family. Missed the comfort of someone always being close by, of voices in the hall from early morning until late at night. Even if it was irritating at times.

_**Why not go ahead and admit it,Pryde. You miss Peter. **_

And, of course, she did. She missed knowing that he was just a few hallways away, that he was within earshot. Even if she couldn't see him, she'd always known that he was there. She missed him so badly that simply thinking about him put her on the verge of bursting into tears. The more she tried not to think about him, the harder it was not to. 

As the huge plane leveled out, it's engines settling into a heavy, dull drone as it carried her off toward a place she'd hoped never to set foot in again, Kitty wondered where he was tonight. Was he still in Westchester, or maybe on a plane, too, going where she'd asked him to? 

She sincerely hoped it was the latter. Peter deserved a life, something other than the constant fighting, and loosing, and dying that was life with the X-Men. At heart, he wasn't a warrior. He never had been. Not really. Peter was far too talented to waste the rest of his life fighting the badly dressed villain of the week, with their Saturday morning cartoon names, and raging Napoleon complexes. He was born to paint, to create art, to create beauty. Not to destroy.

Kitty supposed that was one reason she'd always gravitated toward him. He was the calm to her hurricane, the peace to her war, the serenity to her turbulence. She was the warrior, the one who lived for the battle, for the clash of swords and clang of shields. Always had been, always would be. It was in her blood, just like it was in Logan's and Ororo's and Kurt's, in Illyana's and Rachel's and so many others.

But Peter was the heart, the soul, the conscience, with a pure, noble spirit. Charles Xavier should have never turned him into a soldier, made him fight. The man had enough warriors. He hadn't needed Peter. There was no reason for him to have had to fight. And everyone knew that to fight for the sake of fighting, to make war for no other reason than war itself, was the worst kind of horror a human could perpetrate. 

Where she was headed, that would soon be made evident she feared. She wondered exactly what she might do if caught up in that conflict, but she didn't really know. She was confused, feeling off balance.

There needed to be balance in all things. Peter had been hers. 

No justice without mercy. No knowledge without wisdom. No power without conscience.

Her thoughts still in a tangled jumble, but her body worn and weary from the events of the day, Kitty slowly drifted off to sleep, nestled among the assorted cargo stowed on the massive transport plane. 

As she floated along, in those moments just before her conscious mind shut down and her subconscious took over, the Soulsword came, hovering there, surrounded by it's glowing, white light. It spoke to her in words and images that had been repeated more than once that day, to others in different places, different times, but connected by a common thread.

And, slowly but surely, that thread was contracting, drawing them together for a common purpose.

She saw the huge bird of fire. The glowing, silver Soulsword. The book bound in leather, it's title written in Latin.

_There is Power._ _There is Justice. There is Knowledge. And the Keeper holds the Key._

_To the **one** who is worthy to carry the bright and shining Sword of Justice, the Keeper who holds the Key to all, the Champion, the Soul of Balance, follows with thee, _

_Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen,_

_For, behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it._

_***********************************************************************************************************************_

Well, hope that you guys are still awake and that didn't bore you too much. If I haven't put you into a coma yet, please review if you read. Writers live for reviews. It's like air and food.

**To all my reviewers who are so graciously sticking with me through what is quickly turning into a major saga: **You all are truly the best. And, believe me, you are the only reason I didn't take a stick of dynamite, shove it into this computer, and blow it, and this fic, to the four corners of oblivion last week. 

**Araya-Michiru: **No, when it came down to it, I couldn't see Kitty killing her either. Thus, Mystique still gets to die. Only in a nice way. And, yes, I too wish Colossus had more lines in the X-2 flick. Maybe with X-3? We can only hope. As for what Peter's up to in this fic? Well, he's outta the mansion, but we'll have to wait til next chapter to see where he lands. But at least now you know that those neat bubbles signaled the arrival of everybody's favorite sorceress, acrobat, and reluctant superhero, Amanda Sefton.

**Evanescence kicks ass: **I'm glad you liked the way the Legacy cure was taken care of. It had me sort of confuzzled when I realized it wasn't going to work the way I had it planned out, but Kitty just wouldn't cooperate with me. And I think she was right. Sorry, didn't quite make it to Genosha this time. Next chapter, though. Definitely. And I'm definitely expecting things to be pretty hairy there. We'll also get to see where Peter ends up, too. And we're hopefully going to start seeing some of the Soulsword/Limbo thing become a little clearer.

**Lia Fail:** Yes, Mystique definitely deserved to die. The only person I think needs to die more is Sabertooth, but I couldn't figure out how to get him in this story so I could kill him off, too. Like you, I refuse to believe the whole insane "Draco Arc" storyline myself, or anything else Marvel so conveniently retcons for their own personal convenience. Every time they need to explain a really stupid idea, we end up with scores of clones, evil doubles, and really, really off the wall story lines. I don't care what they say. That winged blue demon guy is not Kurt's dad. Mystique always maintained that his father was a German baron or count or something. I think even **she** would have mention that he was a demon from another dimension to somebody. And hope you enjoyed the return of our favorite former stewardess turned Queen of Limbo. She'll be around for the duration.

**Kirayoshi: **Hmmmm. Seems everybody wanted to read that letter Kitty left for Peter. Maybe we'll get a peek at it later. Glad you liked the pacing. I felt it was appropriate for what the chapter needed to convey. Sometimes, methodically focusing on the task before us is a coping mechanism, as I think it was for Kitty. And, of course the X-Men aren't going to just let her wander off un-looked for, but Peter has a stop or two to make on the way. I have faith in Logan, Kurt, and Amanda, though. You know Wolverine can track that girl down if anybody can. And I'm glad you like my take on Kitty's personality. I agree that a lot of times she's portrayed as either too hard and cold, or an insecure, mushy emotional wreck. As far as I'm concerned, she's a little of all of that, depending on the situation, but she's also still a strong, brave, loving person with her own irreverent sense of humor and, sometimes, misguided protective instinct toward her friends and loved ones. In other words, she's human, just like everybody else.

**T.A. Pixiestix: **I stand guilty as charged on the cliffhanger accusation. How else am I going to keep everybody coming back for more?, she asks with her most innocent expression. I agree that the way chapter 12 worked out gave Mystique a more rounded character. (I still hate her, though.) After all, she raised Rogue and actually cared about her, which has to mean she isn't all bad. And, doing it the way I originally planned would have made Kitty seem too hard and cold. As for Magneto, I don't know of a website that might list all his associates, unless uncannyxmen.net does. They do list each character's affiliation with different groups, so that might help. I know he had all those freakin' Acolytes for a while, which included, Fabian Cortez, Amelia Voght, Spoor (now there's a real head case for you.), Uniscione, Exodus, and tons of others whose names I can't remember right now. He even had Lorna Dane convinced she was actually his daughter and had her working for him for a while in Genosha. Oh, and there was Lee Forrester, who he had an affair with after she and Scott Summers split up. And you might even include the New Mutants, because he was their headmaster in Charles Xavier's absence for a while. He was also associated with Emma Frost and the Hellfire Club for a little while, too. Mostly, though, until the Acolyte thing, he worked alone. I got the feeling he felt like he was better than most of the other villains.

***B(): **Sorry for the crying, but I'm glad it was good crying. Be warned, there will probably be more crying before we're done. Hope it's in a good way, too.

**CaptJesus: **Like the aforementioned crying, I hope stunned was a good thing. I'll assume the congratulations part meant it was. :) Glad you enjoyed the chapter. 

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**Coming Soon: **(Sooner than chapter 13 I hope.) We're going to Genosha, and a couple of other places, as our plot thickens and we get a little more info on some of our mysterious figures that keep popping up out of the woodwork. We'll probably get stuck in the Sentinel Massacre, too.

Yes, I shamelessly stole the title of this chapter from X-Men #110. After doing "The Cure, Redoux" it just seemed appropriate and somewhat ironic.


	14. A Moth To The Flame

**Disclaimer: **X-Men and related characters belong to Marvel, not to me. Big surprise for everyone, I'm sure. Not making any money off of this.

**Warning:** Dark and disturbing things ahead, and it will only get worse. At least no one dies this chapter. Maybe next time. Don't worry about current continuity. Just put it out of your mind. There now. Don't you feel better? If you must know, we depart from the regular series at around X-Men #109. And, fair warning to everyone, this chapter, and probably the next two, will be pretty long.

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**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 14 – A Moth To The Flame**

The sun was just setting as the little ferry chugged steadily along, making it's last run of the day.

Peter Rasputin stood at the bow, staring out at the gray, rolling waves, asking himself what on earth he was doing. He should be anywhere but here. He should be in Genosha, with Logan, looking for Kitty. He should be doing **something** to help her, find her.

Leaving the search to someone else was killing him, tearing his heart out in little, tiny pieces. He didn't even know if she was alive. For all he knew, she could have injected herself with the Legacy serum. Right now, she could be lying somewhere, cold, alone...dead.

He forcibly shoved the thought, and it's accompanying image, from his head with a shake that sent his dark hair fluttering in the light breeze. He couldn't allow himself to think that way. Thoughts such as that would only drive him insane. Besides, he didn't truly believe that's what she'd done. Not really.

Not once he'd learned of the Soulsword, of what it had been doing to her. If nothing else, that thing would not allow her to destroy herself. It needed her, just as it had needed Illyana. The sword might destroy her spiritually, emotionally, but it would not destroy her physically. Though it might take her soul, it would not take her life. Nor would it allow her to do that herself. And he doubted, very seriously, that anyone else would be able to do it for her.

The thought was both comforting and terrifying at the same time. There were things, he knew, in their world that were far worse than death.

As he watched the horizon, he caught the first glimpse of his destination and was immediately reminded of why he was here, instead of in Genosha, or anywhere else, looking for Kitty. She had asked him to do this, to come here, and the reason was standing on the dock, waiting impatiently for his arrival.

Rhane stood there, tall and slim, long red hair billowing out behind her, arms crossed over her chest, tapping one foot on the dock, the rapid staccato mirroring her own impatience with the slow plodding of the little ferry as it drifted closer. Muir Island provided the backdrop for what would have made a lovely portrait, with the crags and hills of the island and the sprawling research complex spread out in the background, a mixture of nature and technology, and the pretty, Scots girl in the foreground, tying it all together.

From here, the damage done by Mystique's bomb was hidden from view, leaving the illusion of perfection. But then, wasn't all perfection, in the end, an illusion?

He'd called her from Edinburgh as soon as he got off the plane, not really giving her an explanation for his sudden visit, but she hadn't asked for one. She'd been happy that he was coming, eager for the company of a friend. She understood instinctively that something wasn't right, without him actually having to tell her, but she hadn't asked any questions. There would be plenty of time for that later. 

The little boat finally pulled up flush with the dock and he was close enough now that he could see the impatient flash of her green eyes as she glared in the direction of the ferryman, her drawn, pale face, the obvious worry and fear etched there, as she looked anxiously toward him. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Sometime between now and when he'd called her earlier, something had changed for the worse. 

Peter felt his heart clench painfully, his chest constricting so that he could barely breathe. Fear crawled up his spine and lodged itself firmly in his throat, nearly choking him. 

_**Please, God. Not Kitty.**_

Grabbing his bags quickly, he flung them onto the dock, not caring how they landed, as he bounded up and out of the boat to confront his worst fears.

Hands clasped, teeth worrying compulsively at her bottom lip, she watched him, waiting for him to clear the ferry. When he did, Rhane took a step toward him, but one look at his face must have shown her something of his terror, because she halted, nearly stumbled and her face crumpled, her eyes clouding up.

They both stood there, staring at one another, her liquid green eyes resting on his face as she took another tentative step toward him, one graceful hand pressed to her lips as if to keep whatever news she had inside. 

"Peter...?" Her voice trembled uncertainly and the next second, she was flying at him and he caught her as she wrapped her arms around his neck hugging him fiercely.

"Oh, thank the guid Lord ye're here. Peter, what's happened?" she asked desperately. "The phone's been ringin' constantly for the last two hours. X-Men callin' with all kindsa strange questions, but none want to give out any answers. And they're lookin' for ye. And Kitty. What's happened to her?" 

Her soft, melodious voice, raw with fear, conveying so much worry and concern just in the way she said his name, was what finally broke him, broke through the shield he'd been building up around himself all day. Peter buried his face in her hair and breathed her in, this girl who was so much like a little sister to him, his whole body shaking as he fought for the control that had been slowly slipping away from him for hours.

Laying her head against his shoulder, holding onto him fiercely as she tried to tamp down a fear that was rapidly blooming into full grown panic, Rhane stroked his back with one hand, making little nonsensical soothing noises, trying to comfort him as best she could, even as she sought comfort herself. She didn't yet know the whole story, but she'd gotten various, disjointed parts of it from several different people. She knew just enough to know that it was bad. 

Just how bad had yet to be determined, but seeing the state that Peter was in wasn't a good sign. Only twice before, in all the years she'd known him, had Rhane seen him this upset, seen him look this distraught. The first had been when Illyana died. The other was the night he'd nearly killed Pete Wisdom in a fit of jealousy over Kitty.

**_Dear Lord, _**she prayed silently. **_"dinn'a let it be as bad as I'm thinkin'. Let Kitty be all right."_**

She didn't know what to do, other than be here for him, as he'd always tried to be for her, so she simply held onto him until he stopped shaking like he was about to fall into pieces on the ground, even though she felt like she could very well join him. When he finally relaxed his death grip and pulled back to look down at her, she looked back up at him worriedly.

"Are ye all right, Peter? I ken somethin' terrible's goin' on. They say Mystique is dead and..."

Peter's hands tightened on her convulsively and Rhane winced as his fingers bit into her upper arm. But he didn't notice. He was staring down at her in wide eyed horror. "Mystique is dead?" His head began to spin and Peter shook his head in firm denial of the thoughts that were now popping, unbidden, into his mind. "No. No." he told himself firmly. "She could not, would not, do that...."

As his voice trailed off, Rhane looked into his dark, sad eyes, searching his face and finding only grief and pain, two emotions she was well acquainted with of late. With a prayer for strength to endure what she was afraid was coming, she laid her hands on his arms, giving them a firm squeeze to get his attention again. "Who, Peter? Did what? Please, I wish ye'd tell me what's goin' on. I dinn'a mind tellin' ye, what I'm thinkin' is scarin' me near to death."

But, instead of the answers she'd been hoping for, Peter only answered her with another question, his face almost frantic. "Rhane, please....did they say what happened to Mystique? How did she die?"

"Aye." Rhane nodded, her face suddenly shuttered, her eyes growing hard as she thought of the woman who'd murdered her mother. "Kurt said she injected herself with the Legacy cure. I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not. 'Tis probably the only decent thing the woman's e'er done in her life, but I cann'a be sorry she's dead."

"You are sure? She used the serum on herself? Of her own free will?" Peter asked urgently. He had to be sure, absolutely sure, that Kitty hadn't done it. If she had, he would know she was already lost, but if not, then there was still some hope. Slim as it might be, he would take what he could get.

"Aye." Rhane confirmed, puzzled as to why he was so concerned with the death of a woman the world would no doubt be much better off without. She was much more concerned with what may have happened to the young woman who was like her own sister. "Kurt said there was security video that showed how it happened. There's no doubt that she did it herself, though I cann'a imagine why. Now, will ye **please** tell me what's goin' on?"

With a nod, and a heartfelt sigh of relief, Peter turned, picking up his bags. "We should go inside. It is a very long story." 

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Two pots of coffee and several hours later, Rhane was reading the last page of Kitty's letter to Peter, intermittently wiping her eyes to keep the tears from falling onto the paper and blurring the words. 

Peter's slow, painful retelling of the events since Moira's funeral had pierced the former were-girl's heart and it bled for both of them. What a mess they had and none of it really their fault. It seemed no matter how hard the two of them tried, no matter what they did, fate conspired against them being together. 

Rhane knew how much Peter loved Kitty, and she hadn't needed to read the words she'd written to him to know that Kitty returned his feelings. In the Scot's girl's opinion, she'd never stopped, she just didn't always let herself acknowledge it. 

The young woman still remembered the night, it seemed so long ago now, when she'd sat in the monitor room, watching as Kitty went into the holding cell where Peter was being kept after his attack on Pete Wisdom. 

She shouldn't have eavesdropped, Rhane knew that, but she'd been so worried about Peter she couldn't help it. She hadn't wanted the rest of the team to gang up on him and make a bad situation for all of them even worse. Granted, he needed to realize what an awful thing he'd done and accept responsibility for his actions, but she couldn't hate him and she hadn't wanted the others to, either.

Even after seeing what he'd done to their new British team mate, she'd known Peter wasn't a bad person, wasn't a violent man. But he'd lost everything, his brother, his parents, his sister. Then, he'd come here, looking for Kitty, the one person he'd thought he had left, only to find he'd lost her as well. 

Rhane could understand how having one stress piled atop another for so long could push a person over the edge. She'd come very close to that edge herself recently.

What Peter hadn't known was that he'd never lost Kitty. Not really. Yes, he'd hurt her, on more than one occasion, and yes, she'd been very angry and wounded by what he'd done, the way he'd pushed her away time and again. But he hadn't seen her face the night she came to talk to him, how she'd looked when she'd turned to leave. He'd never seen her forced expression of cool anger fade and the tears start as she walked out the door. 

And the tears hadn't been for Pete Wisdom. They'd been for Peter, for what had happened, for what was happening, for what they should have had together but never seemed to be able to. Rhane had been the only one to see that, and she'd never told another living soul, though she'd been sorely tempted. Especially once she'd noticed that Kitty and Pete's relationship was not working out as well as it might have. 

But it hadn't been her place then, and it wasn't her place now. It was so long ago, and it was over. Besides, their feelings for one another didn't seem to be in question at this point. It was everything else that was giving them problems.

Specifically, the Soulsword.

The very name made Rhane shudder with revulsion. She remembered, much more clearly than she cared to, how the sword had effected Illyana, how it had slowly stripped the young sorceress's humanity from her, leaving little more than a demon in her place. 

She didn't even want to contemplate what would happen to Kitty if she gave in and accepted the sword. Lady Moira had told her stories of the last time it had happened, when Excalibur had just moved to Muir Island. How Kitty was suddenly possessed by the Soulsword and tried to kill her. Her Mum had said it was like looking at someone else wearing Kitty's body. 

Rhane was torn, afraid for Kitty, wanting to help her, not knowing how to do that, and wanting to respect Kitty's wishes and let her be, so that the Soulsword couldn't endanger her friends and family. It was a vicious loop of fear, frustration, and helplessness with no real end.

As she finished the letter, folded it back up and slid it across the table to Peter, she noticed that he looked just as confused and unsure as she felt. It must be horrible for him, not being able to do anything but wait.

Reaching across the old, scarred, wooden tabletop that had been in Moira's family for several generations, Rhane laid her hand over Peters, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Tell me what ye want to do, Peter. If ye think we should go after her, then that's what we'll do. I may not have my powers anymore, but I'm still an X-Man. I can still fight with the best of them."

Peter turned his hand over, engulfing her small fingers in his much larger ones, as he gave her a wan smile. Shaking his head, he exhaled heavily, staring down at the table top as if it might give up the answers to the questions flying through his mind. 

"Honestly, Rhane, I do not know what to do. I am at a loss. I want, more than anything, to go after her, but she as much as begged me not to." After a moment, he raised his head, his blue eyes nearly black with hurt and despair, as if the feelings had the power to actually change the color. "Katya told Betsy that the Soulsword was a threat to me, as well as to her, and she was afraid that it would use her to get to me...."

As his voice trailed off, Rhane blew out a frustrated breath, sending her fringe of bangs flying. "And I dinn'a ken what to tell ye. If Kitty says that ye may be in danger from the sword if ye're around her, then I would imagine she has good reason to believe so. I remember what it did to Illyana..." 

Closing her eyes, Rhane dropped her head into her free hand, remembering how Peter's sister had changed so when she'd thought the X-Men, her brother included, had all been killed in Dallas. It had all happened so quickly, that none of her team mates had seen it coming and many of them, Rhane included, had been more than a little afraid of the young Russian woman and her growing darkness.

"Ye weren'a there, then, and ye didn'a see how she changed, how quickly she lost control of herself and the sword. I ken ye were horrified by what she'd become at the end, during the Inferno, but she was nearly insane by then. We watched it swallow her, day by day, minute by minute, and t'was one of the most terrifyin' things I've e'er witnessed." She lifted her head then, green eyes rimmed with tears threatening to spill once again. "I dinn'a want to see that happen to Kitty and I dinn'a want to see that happen to ye. And I dinn'a know how to protect the both of ye. Even from one another."

In any other circumstances, the thought of the slender, Scot's girl protecting him would have made Peter laugh, or at least smile, but he had nothing to smile about at the moment. And he doubted that anyone could protect either Kitty or himself from this particular threat.

"Rhane, is there anything you remember from that time, anything that Illyana might have done or said, that would give us some idea of how to fight this thing?" 

The young redhead took a moment, thinking back over the time she'd known Illyana Rasputin, but she could come up with very little. She'd been such a different person then and, because of Reverend Craig and all the nonsense he'd instilled in her, Rhane had been very uncomfortable around her young sorceress team mate, thinking her to be a willing servant of evil. 

As a result, she knew there were probably things she'd missed that might have given them some clues about the current situation and the former shape-shifter couldn't help but be a little angry with her younger self for that rigid, self-righteous attitude.

"No." She said at length, with a small shake of her head. "Not really. I'm sorry, Peter. I should've paid more attention to her." Dropping her eyes, she swirled her spoon around in her coffee cup, her voice very soft and ashamed. "I should've been a better friend to Illyana. All she e'er really wanted was to fit in, to have friends, to be **normal**." A single tear slipped from the corner of her right eye and slid down her ivory cheek and she swiped at it with her fingertips just before it dripped off her chin. "I dinn'a ken why I couldn'a see it then, as I see it now. Maybe, if I had, she would still be here, she wouldn'a have given herself o'er to the darkness..."

"And, perhaps, if I had not gone to Dallas with the other X-Men, had not agreed to let the world believe us dead, things would have been different for my sister. Or, if Katya had not been so severely injured in the Morelock Massacre and sent away, sent here, to Muir Island, leaving Illyana with neither of us to anchor her to her humanity..." 

He stopped, watching his friend for a moment before reaching across the small kitchen table and tipping her face up. When she finally raised her eyes to his, Peter continued. "Rhane, you were a very good friend to Illyana, as you have been a good friend to us all. None of what happened to her was your fault. If anything, your friendship may have been the only reason she was able to hold on as long as she did. And, in the end, it was you who showed her there was a better way. If anyone was at fault, it was only myself. I am the one who is to blame. I was her brother. I should never have left her alone."

"We all make mistakes, Peter." Rhane spoke calmly, with conviction, as she relived memories she'd suppressed for so very long. Until now, she'd shied away from dealing with them. They were too frightening, too painful. And, in all honesty, she was ashamed of some of them, of her actions in those days. Perhaps it was time, though, to drag that darkness out into the light, once and for all. "And ye were not alone in that one. The rest of the X-Men agreed to it as well, because ye all felt it best at the time. Ye felt it was the right choice....." 

She stopped speaking abruptly, in mid-sentence, seeming to lose herself in her own thoughts. But, a moment later, her eyes snapped back to his, considering.

"What is it, Rhane?"

"I'm not sure. It may be nothin', just somethin' I suddenly remembered." Taking a second to gather her thoughts, she tried to be as accurate as possible. "I remember, at the last, Illyana talkin' about choices. She said that her only choice was to remove the choice. To make it as though she had never existed in Limbo at all. That's when she opened the teleportation circle wide...." 

Her sharp green eyes lost their focus as the young woman saw, not the present and the little kitchen in the small cabin that had been the original house on Muir Island. She was seeing the past, years ago, on the day that demons rained from the sky on Time's Square. "...so very wide. I'd ne'er seen anythin' like it before, and ne'er have since. 'Twas beautiful, and terrible, all bright, silver-white light and cold fire. And Illyana stood in the middle of it, a golden angel made of light and flames." 

"It reminded me of nothin' so much as the way that Rachel used to look, after she became the Phoenix..." Brow furrowing slightly, as if working out a problem, Rhane paused, but then shook the distraction from her head and continued. "She cast the Soulsword up, through the middle of the pillar of fire, and the light t'was blindin', brighter than the sun. I couldn'a look at her, but all the while, I held her, as a wee child, in my arms. Right up until the very last. Then, I lost my grip on her and, when I got it back again, I pulled Illyana's charred armor from Limbo. Ye know what happened after that."

With a sigh, she slumped back in the straight, wooden kitchen chair and closed her eyes for a moment, but all she could see was that circle of silver fire and the Lightchylde, burning in the center. "I dinn'a know what it means, if it means anythin'."

"Nor do I." Peter's short, choked, reply was all he could manage. Though he'd been there, through Inferno, fighting N'astirh, S'ym, Sinister, the Marauders, Madelyne, Alex, all of it, he hadn't witnessed exactly what had happened to his sister. Hearing Rhane describe it, in such detail, with such awe, tore at his very soul. Despite what had been done to her, despite what she'd become, at the end, his sister had sacrificed everything that she was to make the only choice she could. The right choice. 

And, was Kitty not doing much the same? Was she not willing to sacrifice everything to save the people she cared about, the people she loved? Could he ask any less of himself, no matter how it might hurt? Most importantly, was there really anything he could do to help her with her fight now, or would his presence only make things more difficult for her?

As Peter pondered his own questions, Rhane was still lost in memories, sorting through images and words she hadn't unlocked in a very long time. After a few minutes pause, she resumed speaking, turning her abstract train of thought into words in an effort to see things more clearly.

"I also remember somethin' Sam said, right afterwards. He wondered why, if Illyana had made it so she ne'er went to Limbo in the first place, did we all still remember her, as a teenager. I dinn'a give it much thought at the time, but it does seem a wee bit strange, now that I think about it."

Peter only shrugged, only half-listening to her now as he tried to sort through his own thoughts. "Limbo is a strange place, not bound by the same laws of time and space as earth. If Illyana changed something there, I do not suppose there is any guarantee that it would affect things as we would think."

Rhane nodded, but still, something pulled at her memory, making her feel as if she were missing an obvious piece of the puzzle, some connection they should have put together. But she couldn't quite grasp it, couldn't quite bring it into focus. Finally, she gave up and let it go. Perhaps it wasn't as important as she'd thought, anyway.

"I'm sorry I cann'a be more help. I feel like I should be doin' **somethin'** to help Kitty, but I dinn'a ken what." she exhaled heavily, eyes once more on her coffee cup. "I hope Logan and Kurt find her soon." 

"I feel the same." Peter reassured her. "But, perhaps, this is something she truly has to face alone, much as I do not wish to admit it. Just as Illyana had to, ultimately, face her own demons alone." With a resigned sigh, Peter Rasputin made his decision, the only decision that he truly could make, under the circumstances. "Perhaps, the best I can do for Katya at this time is to comply with her wishes, to return to my art and my life as Peter Nicholas. And hope, pray, that one day she will be able to return to me."

Reluctantly, Rhane nodded and the two of them sat there, heads down, thoughts a continent away, feeling useless and lost. Wondering how their friends were faring tonight, and praying that the morning sun would bring good news.

And, outside, in the cold, foggy, Scottish night, evil smiled. 

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Amanda Sefton tried the spell for the eighth time that day, and for the eighth time it failed spectacularly.

Cursing a blue streak in fluent, descriptive, German, the sorceress of The Winding Way, and former Queen of Limbo, plopped down in one of the two rickety chairs at the small dinette table that - along with a battered dresser, a mutilated night stand, and a sagging bed with no headboard and threadbare sheets - comprised the furniture in the small, dilapidated hotel room. 

The sad thing was, this was one of the nicer hotels in Genosha. Considering the sheer size, number, and aggressive disposition of some species of the native insect population she'd encountered here so far, Amanda was sincerely glad they hadn't ended up in one of the real shitholes. 

Propping her elbows on the scarred, wobbly table, she dropped her chin into her hands and continued scowling fiercely at nothing and muttering imprecations concerning the questionable parentage of the progenitor of her, currently, most troublesome spell.

She was still going strong as a soft "bamf", the obligatory sulfurous cloud, and following sharp stench of brimstone announced the arrival of her foster-brother, former lover, and current partner in chaos.

"Liebchen!" Kurt gasped dramatically, placing one three-fingered hand over his heart in mock-shock. "Such language! And from such an attractive mouth. What would Mother say?"

"She'd say 'Stuff it, Blue Boy.'" The disgruntled strawberry-blonde growled, eyes narrowed to annoyed slits and flashing blue sparks as she cut them his way.

Undaunted, Kurt strolled over, taking the second chair, turning it around backwards, and dropping down casually, arms crossed over the back as he rested his chin on his forearm and watched her with familiar, burning, golden eyes. 

"Still no luck, Liebe?"

Amanda didn't bother asking with what. "Nope. I've tried every spell, every trick, I know. I can go anywhere else I want. Except Limbo. Whatever's happened, whatever reason has the Soulsword stuck to Kitty, has also sealed off Limbo. At least, I'm guessing they're connected. It seems too much to be a coincidence. I suppose it's good I got out when I did, or I'd probably be stuck there."

"I don't understand any of this." Kurt sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Could Kitty be in Limbo? Could she have somehow sealed it against intruders?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Amanda smirked lopsidedly, an expression she often adopted when annoyed with something, or someone. "I don't think so, but who knows, really. I just wish I could get back there. Just for a few damn minutes. All I want are a few books that I think might be able to help us out on this."

"Still thinking about the amulet?" But he knew she was, before he even asked the question. Ever since Peter and Betsy had mentioned the Bloodstone Amulet, Amanda had been almost obsessed by it, convinced that it held some kind of clue, a key to what was happening with Kitty and the Soulsword. 

"It's just so **familiar. **I have this feeling that I should know what it is, what it means, but it won't come to me." She pounded one fist on the rickety table in abject frustration, sending it rocking violently. "It's like....I don't know....like, if I could just remember....." She let the sentence trail off helplessly as she turned to him, everything seeming to drain out of her at once until she just looked deflated. "It's driving me nuts."

"I can tell." he replied, matter-of-factly, earning him a slightly less withering glare than he was expecting. "What about Mother? Would she be able to help?"

"Maybe, but I can't find her. Scrying doesn't work. Locator spells don't work. If I didn't know better, I'd say she's dropped off the face of the earth."

This time, it was Kurt's turn to shrug. "You know how she is. She will show up in her own, good time."

"Fat lot of good that does us now." Her scowl was back and Amanda decided to change the subject. She was really too irritated with this brick wall she seemed to be bashing her head against to talk about it now. "What about Logan? Have you heard anything else from him? Has he gotten any information from his sources?"

"Very little." Kurt admitted. "Though one did tell him that a girl fitting Kitty's description had been seen around Magda Square once or twice. Though, in truth, it could have been almost anyone, I suppose. He is out now, talking to another of his contacts."

"Maybe, when he gets back, we can all sit down. I've been thinking..."

"A very dangerous pastime, meine lieb." Kurt cut in with a devilish grin, which always worked well for him, considering his appearance. Amanda couldn't help but grin back a little in return.

"Very funny, Fuzzy. **Anyway**, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted....I'd like to write some stuff down, get some details from you two and try to get some coherent order on all this, see if I can discern some type of pattern." At his sharply arched brow, the former Daytripper chuckled. "Ok, I know it's grasping at straws, but what else do we have? It's not like information, or clues, are falling on us out of the sky here."

"Good point." Kurt conceded good naturedly, enjoying the teasing by-play. It had been too long since he'd seen Amanda and he'd realized these last few days just how much he'd missed her. "Why not begin now? I can tell you what I know and what I remember from my own trips to Limbo and you can question Logan later."

"Ok." Amanda brightened slightly at the prospect of actually doing something productive. Even though Genosha was a fairly small country, and rather isolated, it still wasn't easy to track one young woman, who definitely didn't want to be found, through a country of millions, with no real clues on where to even start looking. If they didn't make some progress in their search soon they were all going to go crazy out of sheer frustration.

Standing, she went to the much-abused night stand, opened the one drawer and withdrew several rather ratty looking pieces of hotel stationary and a pen, then returned to the table, her hand holding the pen and poised to write. "So spill. Tell me whatever you remember. I want to know names, dates as best you can recall, anything that might even remotely help us understand what's going on."

With a nod, Kurt began to relate the details of the several times he'd been to Limbo, beginning with the first time, when the X-Men had gone in search of Kitty and Illyana, and ending with the time, while they were with Excalibur, that he, Kitty, and Piotr had been sucked in for Belasco's strange test. 

As he spoke, Amanda wrote furiously, only interrupting occasionally in order to clarify some detail or ask for more in-depth information. Even Kurt was amazed at the amount that he remembered. When they were done, they had several handwritten pages of random facts. 

Putting their heads together, they went through the raw information, trying to categorize it, looking for similarities, connections, or anything that might stand out. When that proved too slow, Kurt went to his and Logan's room and came back with the laptop they'd borrowed from the mansion.

"Let's give this a try. Perhaps, if we can enter all the key information into some kind of database it will be easier to match things up." He grinned at her suddenly, the expression both boyish and a endearing, despite the prominent fangs, making Amanda's heart do a little flip-flop. "Besides, I believe I'm beginning to go cross-eyed."

Taking the laptop from his as he sat back down, scooting his chair closer to hers, Amanda took the computer from him, opened it up and turned it on. As she scrolled through the menu of programs, looking for an adequate database to use, she glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes, a slightly wicked grin curving her lips. 

"And how, exactly, would we be able to tell if you did go cross-eyed?" she asked as innocently as she possibly could, blue eyes sparkling with humor. 

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Kurt replied flatly, all at once sounding very unamused as the smile left his face to be replaced by a hard, emotionless mask. 

Amanda blinked at him, her own mood, which had been improving as they worked together, darkening again. It was very unlike Kurt to be so easily offended by a little harmless teasing, especially when he'd seemed to be in a rather playful mood. But when his expression remained set, she decided she'd better apologize. Apparently, things between them were even worse than she'd thought.

Before she could open her mouth, though, his tail whipped up to tickle her ribcage, a surprise attack in retaliation for her teasing.

With a squeal, Amanda jumped sideways, instinctively trying to avoid the agile appendage, and nearly fell out of her chair. She giggled, swatting at the spaded tip of his tail with one hand, as it continued to try and poke at her side, while holding tightly to the back of her chair with the other as she tried not to land on the floor. God alone only knew what was down **there.**

"Stop it, you louse!" Though she was trying to be serious, she couldn't help but laugh as his whip-like tail continued trying to sneak through her defenses. "I thought you were really mad at me." 

Nightcrawler gave up the game, tilting his head to one side as he gazed back at her curiously. "Why would you think that, Liebe?"

The lovely sorceress shrugged, giving him a tight lipped smile. "Oh, I dunno. Maybe because I haven't even come by for a visit in the last couple of years?" She hadn't meant for it to be like that, for it to be so long, but things had just happened. Then, one day she'd looked up and years had passed. 

"Ach, is that what you've been worried about?" Kurt shook his head in disbelief. "I knew you hadn't been acting yourself for the past several days, but I thought it was perhaps this situation with Kitty."

"Well, yes. That. But not just that." She smiled up into his face, studying the angular, chiseled planes, features that, if taken alone, individually, might not be considered anything special, but together were very attractive. Amanda had always thought he had a good face. A face that suited his personality. A familiar and much loved face. "I've really missed you, Kurt. Every day. I'm sorry it took this tragedy to make me realize just how much."

His thick, calloused fingers skimmed softly down her cheek as his golden eyes seemed to glow even brighter. "I've missed you as well, Liebchen, but I know how our respective responsibilities can take over our lives. I was never angry with you." Then, he was grinning again, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in that way that always made her go all soft and mushy. "Well, not much, anyway."

With a snort of mock outrage, Amanda swung at him, meaning to slap him playfully on the shoulder. Instead, she found her wrist caught in one of his strong hands as he gave her arm a gentle tug. She let him pull her toward him and he let loose his hold on her wrist as she wound her arms around his neck. 

"I still love you, you know." Amanda told him quietly as she closed her eyes, pulling his head down.

"I love you, too." she heard him reply, just before his mouth met hers and she forgot everything else. 

One of Kurt's hands slid around her waist as his other combed through her long, silky hair, coming to rest at the back of her head, holding her mouth to his as he took the kiss from light and soft to deep and hungry. God, how he'd missed this woman, and how glad he was, despite the circumstances, that she was finally back in his life.

Amanda tightened her arms around his neck, pressing closer, as all the months apart melted away in an instant, in one single kiss. It was as if she were suddenly home again and her heart soared. Whatever the outcome of this thing with Kitty, the young sorceress knew , in that instant, that she wouldn't be leaving Kurt again. 

When they broke apart, she sighed contentedly. "Fuzzy, do you think Logan would be insulted if his current room mate abandoned him in favor of a less hairy, less masculine replacement?"

"Nein." Kurt grinned down at her wickedly. "I believe he would completely understand." Then, he arched one eyebrow, watching her speculatively. "Frauline, did you just proposition me?"

"Absolutely." she replied with all sincerity, though her azure eyes sparkled with mischief. "Whadda ya say, Kurt? Wanna shack up?"

"Ja. Sür Gut." 

With a grin,she kissed him again, quickly but soundly, before turning back to the the computer. "Now, that's all settled, let's get back to work. I really want to see what I can figure out from all this."

Unable to keep the somewhat goofy smile off of his face, Kurt turned as well, leaving one arm draped over the back of her chair, as he picked up the sheaf of papers in front of him. "I'll read, you type."

Beside him, Amanda rolled her eyes dramatically. "Well, I didn't see that one coming." 

**********************************************************************************************************************

Slumping back in her chair, Kitty's fingertips scrubbed roughly over her tired eyes. With a groan, she let her eyelids fall closed, giving her pupils, and her mind, a few minutes of much needed rest. If she kept pushing herself like she had been the last few days, she wasn't only going to be blind, she was going to be insane as well.

But what else was she going to do? She sure wasn't having much luck with the main reason she was here, in this hell hole.

She'd hit Genosha just in time to witness the swift and complete recovery of nearly every person infected with the Legacy virus. Granted, some of the more advanced cases were still in hospital, regaining their strength. But the majority of the victims were almost good as new overnight. They went from death's doorstep to almost perfect health in the span of a few short hours. It was absolutely astounding. And it made her heart ache for Illyana, who'd never had the chance to live long enough for this cure to do her one bit of good. 

Just one more thing to add to her growing pile of "things that should have been". One more thing to let drive her a step closer to insanity. Just like all these damned diaries.

Kitty opened her eyes and looked down at the pile of books that sat on the motel room table. In all, they represented seven of Destiny's Libris Veritatus. There were copies of the one she'd found originally, the one that had come to her a short while later, and the five that she'd taken from Professor Xavier's Ready Room the morning she'd left Westchester. 

Since most of the first book had already been loaded into this computer program, she was currently working on the second of the two that had come to her, but she wasn't having much luck. Much of it was in a strange, almost symbolic, language that she could have sworn she'd seen before, but couldn't remember where. And she certainly couldn't read it, nor could she find anything to compare to it on any of the language translation websites she was familiar with.

Hell, she could have translated ancient Egyptian easier than she could translate this stuff.

Some of the passages were accompanied by pictures, but they didn't really make any sense either without being able to read the words that they went with. What little she had been able to decipher so far made little or no sense, but she was trying.

The whole thing was really beginning to get under her skin. Lately, neither her memory nor her intelligence in general seemed to be functioning normally and Kitty just knew she was missing something. Some part of the whole that might make it all come together. Unfortunately, no answers seemed forthcoming.

Turning back to her laptop with a weary sigh, she looked back down once more at the open book in front of her, reading the passage written there, one of the few in any language that she could actually read. 

_Amidst death and the raging fire of the Hunters,_

_It is at last called forth in despair._

_The Books must be gathered, _

_To their known number, add one._

_The Knowledge shall guide,_

_An ally in Wisdom._

_The Keeper awakens,_

_Seeking the Champion._

Kitty typed in the stanza, shaking her head. It was like trying to decipher the prophecies of Nostradamus. In fact, some of the writing bore a strong resemblance to his quatrains. But what did it mean?

_The Books_, that was fairly easy. She figured it was safe to assume that meant the diaries, but the next phrase had her stumped. _To their known number, add one_. Did that mean there was one more diary that they didn't know about? If that were true, then there would be fourteen diaries instead of thirteen. It would make sense, she supposed. Especially if the fourteenth book were an index, like a key, to the rest. But, as of right now, Kitty had no idea where the rest of the set might be. Maybe Ororo's team would actually have some luck in that department. 

She had to skip the first verse entirely, because she had absolutely no idea what the _Hunters_ might be or what would be called forth in despair. There were several words, however, that caught her attention. 

It spoke of _the Knowledge_, _the Keeper_, and _the Champion_. All words she'd heard in her dreams, words that the Soulsword had spoken to her about. But she still had no idea what they meant, if they pertained to people, objects, or something entirely different. 

It might be safe to assume that _Knowledge_ applied to the diaries as well. That seemed to correspond to the images in her dreams, also. And, of course, she knew the image of the Soulsword. The one that had her really stumped was the bird of fire. It was, obviously, the symbol for the Phoenix force and, just as obviously, corresponded to _Power_, but what part could it possibly play in this scenario? And why would it play any part at all?

And that only left _Justice _to match to the Soulsword. Kitty was having a very hard time reconciling those two things, which brought the her whole interpretation into question again. All in all, she was left feeling as if she were going round an round in circles.

If she hadn't been sure Pete was dead, she could almost believe the part about an _Ally in Wisdom_ might pertain to him, but there was no doubt that he was, indeed, dead. So that destroyed that theory. Perhaps it was a metaphor for the information, the wisdom, contained in the diaries, but there was no way to be sure.

As for _The Keeper_ and _The Champion_, those were anybody's guess. She had a suspicion that the reference to the Keeper might in some way connect to the Bloodstone Amulet, but it was no more than a hunch. Right now, in her present state, Kitty wasn't sure she could trust her instincts as well as she might otherwise. Everything with her had seemed skewed since she got here.

Shrugging, she plugged what information she had, or could reasonably speculate on, into the database she'd designed. It would be a tedious task to enter it all into the computer, but it would be the most accurate way to look for patterns that she just wasn't capable of seeing or recognizing in her current state. 

Once everything on that one particular passage was entered, she moved onto the next, but it proved just as puzzling, if not more so.

_From the Tribes of the Desert,_

_From the Mountains and Snow,_

_Comes the Warrior of the Sword,_

_Comes the Pure and Noble Soul of Balance,_

_Though the trials will be many,_

_Fate shall reign triumphant._

_The Bond, at last, is Forged._

_Innocence willingly given in love,_

_The Keeper to the Champion._

_The Voice of the Sword rings out, calling to it's Sisters._

Kitty's head was so full, it was practically buzzing. She'd lost count of how many of these things she'd typed in so far and they just kept getting more and more puzzling. Just like the others, this one had words which seemed to mean something to her.

_The Warrior of the Sword_. Was that her? Amanda? Illyana? Or something, or someone, else entirely different. Kitty was assuming it was speaking of the Soulsword, but it could just as easily be something else completely. 

Then there were those two words again, always seeming to be linked together. _The Keeper to the Champion._ In her dreams, the Soulsword spoke of a Keeper and a Champion, though the Champion part was fairly recent. And she had no idea, again, if it would be a person or an object. Common sense pointed to it being a person, though common sense didn't always apply to the Diaries or the Soulsword. 

So, where did that leave her? Who, or what, were the _Keeper _and the _Champion. _And what was their connection to the Soulsword, if that actually was what this was referencing. The Keeper of what? The Champion of what, or who? And, since when did the Soulsword have sisters? 

_**Oh, boy. I must be getting really punchy. This is all starting to sound ridiculous, even to me.**_

Again, her vision blurred and Kitty finally gave in. She closed the book, carefully marking her place, then saved her work and turned off the computer. As always, there was the nagging feeling that she was missing something, something she should have picked up on before now, but, as always, whatever it was eluded her. 

Perhaps she didn't really want to know what it was. All of this reminded her, way too much, of trying to decipher the first diary before the calling of the Twelve. And just look how successful that had been. 

She'd spend hours upon hours, days upon days, barely sleeping, hardly eating, feeding info from that Diary into the main computer, trying to come up with something, some little bit of information, that would help them in the coming battle. But none of it had made any sense. Not really. Not even with Cable contributing what he knew from the future he'd grown up in. Not until it all started happening and they could put the pieces together in retrospect. There again, it resembled the prophecies of Nostrodamus. For the most part, they'd only been able to sit back and watch events unfold.

They'd managed to eek out just enough from the Diaries to give them a slight edge. In the end, they'd saved the world, but they'd lost Scott. He'd sacrificed himself to enable Nathan to destroy Apocalypse. 

And with Scott gone, all chances of Rachel being born in this time line went with him. Not only was the time line she'd been thrown into destroyed with Apocalypse's death, but now, she'd never have a life here, either.

Kitty knew that, in the last few weeks, she'd probably cried enough to flood a river, but she couldn't help but shed a few more as she thought of the last time she'd seen her friend. The one thing Rachel had asked of her just before she'd entered the time stream to change places with Brian Braddock, so that he could return to his proper time, to Meggan.

_Kitty, promise me you'll say "Hello"._

_I...I don't understand._

_When I'm born, to Scott and Jean. Promise me you'll hold me in your arms...keep me safe and warm...and give me a kiss "hello"._

_I...promise._

Rachel had been so happy that day. They'd just returned from Jean and Scott's wedding and it was as if the normally morose, troubled young woman had a new lease on life. She'd been so full of joy, so optimistic. Then she was gone. 

Just another friend Kitty would never see again. No matter which way she turned, no matter what she did, it seemed that was her fate. To be forever alone.

With a sniff, Kitty wiped her eyes, and slid her chair back from the table, glancing at the clock as she did so. She still had a few hours before she had to meet her contact. 

Though it was the last thing she wanted to do right now, she knew she had to catch up on at least a little sleep. The dreams would come, of course, and the Soulsword would call to her, as it always did, but she couldn't continue as she was. Where she was going, she would need as many of her wits about her as she could muster.

Not bothering to undress, she curled up on her side on the rumpled, ragged bed and closed her eyes, mentally bracing herself for what would come next.

**********************************************************************************************************************

They'd been at their task for several hours and Kurt's eyes felt as if they were full of sand from staring at the papers as well as the laptop screen. With a yawn, he pushed back from the table, stood, and stretched, arching his back to work out the kinks from sitting in that torture device some idiot had passed off as a chair.

He looked over to find Amanda doing much the same, straightening up from her hunched position, rolling her head around and around on her neck to get the stiffness out after all that time spent in one uncomfortable position. Out of long habit, he moved behind her, massaging her shoulders to help her loosen up.

With a moan of pure ecstasy, Amanda dropped her head forward so that he could work more easily on her stiff, sore muscles with his strong hands. 

"Kurt, you are a god." 

"Ja. Well, one does what one can." His thick fingers worked expertly around her shoulders and neck, working on the knotted muscles he was finding there. Amanda was taking this whole situation just as hard as the rest of them. Maybe more so. She was driving herself mercilessly trying to figure this all out, when he wasn't sure that was possible. 

It had taken them hours, but they'd finally gotten all the information they could come up with into the computer. Now, they had to try and analyze it all and see what they came up with. Kurt was not expecting any miracles, but he was hoping maybe it would give them a little more to go on than what they had. Which was nearly nothing.

"So, has all of this paralysis and near blindness we are currently suffering earned us anything? Has any of this random information told you anything new."

"Well," Amanda began somewhat reluctantly. "Yes. And no." Laying her head back, she glanced up at him briefly before returning her attention to the computer screen in front of her. "There are definitely a few things that stand out to me. We'll probably get more, once the search in progress has finished filtering everything, but here's what I can come up with strictly on human brainpower." 

As she hit a few keys, calling up a stream of words and phrases in some sort of spreadsheet format, Kurt's hands stilled and he rested them lightly on her shoulders as his eyes locked on the information she was pointing to.

"Of course, we know with reasonable certainty which X-Men have been to Limbo. That wasn't that hard to figure. Apparently, the first team was from an alternate dimension or timeline and the lineup was exactly the same as the first team from our earth that was pulled in. Illyana, Shadowcat...though she was Sprite then, wasn't she?" She looked up to Kurt and, at his nod of affirmation, she continued.

"Anyway...Illyana, Shadowcat, or Sprite, Storm, Colossus, Wolverine. The main difference was the outcome. The first team, the one from somewhere else, was stuck in Limbo, while their Illyana escaped, presumably back to their home earth. Now, from what Betsy could tell us of her experiences in Kitty's dream, or visions, or whatever, plus what Kitty herself told her, we know, with some certainty, what happened to that team. Wolverine was killed almost immediately. Nightcrawler was corrupted by Belasco. Kitty was captured, imprisoned, and tortured...."

"Ja, ja. I remember the details, Liebe. Can we possibly skip over them this time. They made me physically ill before." Kurt shot her a pleading look and Amanda nodded. It wasn't exactly something she wanted to think about any more either, but, if they were going to stand a chance of solving this puzzle, she had no choice. 

"Ok, so we know all the gory details of what happened to the first X-Men in Limbo. The second team, our team, was made up of exactly the same members, but their fates were almost the exact opposite. The rest of you made it back safely, but Illyana was stuck there for seven years, while only a few seconds passed here." Amanda stopped, rubbing at her eyes, then closing them briefly, resting them. 

Though the labor they'd been involved in these last few hours hadn't been physical, it had been just as tiring, not to mention they hadn't exactly gotten anything close to a normal night's sleep since they'd gotten here a few days ago. 

Eyes still closed, she leaned back, letting her head rest against Kurt's abdomen as she continued from memory. "And, of course, we know how all that eventually turned out. What I found really interesting, however, was the next two visits."

"Ah, yes. The infamous excursion with Excalibur, Dr. Doom, and the West Coast Avengers, who had to come pull our collective behinds out of the soup. Not exactly one of my favorite memories." One side of Kurt's mouth twisted in a wry grin. "Though I'm certain the story works well for comic relief."

"Well, yeah." Amanda admitted, releasing the chuckle she'd been trying to hold back since he'd haltingly told her the rather embarrassing story of how Dr. Doom had talked Kitty into drawing the sword and accompanying him into Limbo, where he promptly took control of the sword and tried to destroy the entire dimension in order to mine it for an abundant native mineral that produced unlimited energy. 

Unfortunately, the process was sucking England in through Doom's portal and his control over the dimension's demon population allowed him to make short work of Excalibur when they tried to stop him. It had actually been the Lady of the Lake who had gone for the West Coast Avengers, consisting at that time of the Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Tigra, Iron Man, Wonder Man, and She-Hulk. 

She'd sent them into Limbo to rescue Kurt and the rest of Excalibur, which they did. And, together, the two teams had defeated Doom and his demons and saved England as well as Limbo. But what had interested Amanda hadn't been the battle or Doom's ability to wield the sword, which hadn't been that surprising, given his his background. It had been Rachel's actions in stopping Doom from destroying Limbo.

"But that's not the point. The point is how Rachel stopped Doom from destroying the heart of Limbo."

"What was so special about that?" Kurt asked, his brow knitting together in puzzlement. "She simply did what she would normally do by stopping the movement of the sword with her telekinesis."

"But why was she able to stop it?" 

At this, Kurt looked down at her in surprise, but she still had her eyes closed, so she didn't see. "Amanda, she was the Phoenix. One of the most, if not **the** most, powerful forces in the universe...."

"Doesn't matter." she replied matter-of-factly before he could finish. Opening her eyes to look up at him now, she smiled slightly at the way his forehead was creased and lifted her hand to run her index finger lightly over the little lines between his eyes until they smoothed out. "Don't look so puzzled. I'm going to explain it all to you." 

"Good." He nipped lightly at her finger as she lowered it and saw her eyes darken slightly, making him smile. "Please do."

"It doesn't matter how physically, or psychically, powerful Rachel, as the Phoenix, was. You told me yourself that she'd tried to remove the Soulsword form the stone it was sheathed in before Kitty drew it and she couldn't do it."

"Ja. She tried with all the power she had and could not budge it even an inch. Kitty was the only one who could pull it free." Kurt confirmed.

"So, then, how did she manage to stop it in mid stroke and, for all intents and purposes, take it away from Dr. Doom in Limbo, as well as hold that entire dimension together with simply the sheer force of her will?" Amanda asked. After a moment, she could almost see the lightbulb pop on over Kurt's head. "She should no more have been able to stop that sword in mid-stroke, especially when someone else had control of it, much less take the sword away from the wielder, than she was able to pull it from the stone it was embedded in. Kitty, maybe, but not Rachel. No matter how much raw power the Phoenix possesses, the Soulsword is a mystical object, bound by a totally different set of rules. It makes me wonder what would have happened if Rachel had actually touched it, instead of holding it with her TK."

"Are you saying that Rachel is in some way connected to Limbo as well? Or the Soulsword?" Kurt seemed to ponder this for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Amanda, but there's no evidence to support that, except for that one incident."

"No, Kurt. That's not what I'm saying at all, though it's possible." Shifting positions, she turned around in her chair so that she could talk to him head on instead of looking at him upside down. "What I'm saying is that Rachel and Kitty were connected, in almost the same way that Kitty and Illyana were connected."

Now, Kurt was truly confused. The more they talked, the more they theorized, the less clear things seemed to become. It was extremely frustrating. Rubbing his eyes, tiredly, he looked down at his foster sister.

"If that were true, shouldn't the same thing that happened with the Soulsword have happened with the Phoenix force? Shouldn't Kitty have inherited it as well, once Rachel was gone?"

"No." Amanda sighed, trying to think how she could possibly explain this complicated set of relationships and connections to someone else, when she wasn't sure she understood it herself. "And you're still assuming that the Soulsword wasn't originally meant for Kitty, which I'm becoming more and more convinced is actually the case. But, that's neither here nor there at the moment...." Arranging her thoughts in her own mind, the young sorceress continued with her theory. 

"Look at the parallel's between Illyana's history and Rachel's. Illyana, trapped in Limbo, was rescued and basically raised and protected by Cat, Kitty's counterpart from another dimension, or timeline. Cat was the one who gave Illyana the knowledge and skills, the strength, both physical and mental, that she needed to defeat Belasco and return home.'

"In Rachel's time, she was basically raised, and looked after, by her world's Kate Rasputin, again Kitty's counterpart. Kate was like a second mother to her. In fact, it was Kate who was responsible for the Phoenix force bringing Rachel to this time, to save her from the Sentinel driven holocaust of that timeline."

"It was also the Phoenix force that was responsible for Kitty coming to the X-Men in the first place." Kurt supplied, having suddenly remembered that particular bit of information. 

Amanda shot him a puzzled look. "What do you mean? I thought Professor Xavier was the one who found her?"

"Ja." Kurt nodded. "But it was the Phoenix, while it was posing as Jean Grey, that rescued Kitty after the Hellfire Club attacked the X-Men. Kitty's parents were furious with us for endangering their daughter. They would never have let her come with us afterwards, if the Phoenix hadn't tampered with their memories."

Amanda blinked at him, astonished. "How come I've never heard any of this before?"

Kurt simply shrugged his shoulders. "It was not something we particularly liked to talk about. And, soon after that, we were all mourning the death of Jean. Or rather the Phoenix force, but we did not realize it wasn't her at the time. Honestly, I haven't thought of that particular incident in years."

"Circles within circles. And Kitty at the heart of it all." Amanda mumbled with a sigh. "Then, we have the Books of Truth, and Irene Adler, who are also heavily connected to Kitty, as well as Illyana, though I'm not sure exactly how all that works in, either. But, don't you find it interesting, almost peculiar, that we have three young women, all of approximately the same age, all tightly interconnected, both to one another and to three different, powerful, forces? Yet, the three were rarely, if ever, all together at the same time, due to very strange and unlikely circumstances." 

"I am afraid I am not following you." Kurt was beginning to feel as if he'd slipped through the looking glass and into Wonderland, where nothing made any real sense.

"In magical, and some religious, circles," Amanda explained. "the number three and five are considered special, powerful. Especially the trinity. The three. Think Christianity's Holy Trinity. Or the Three Fates from Greek Mythology. Or the nine circles of Hell, a number divisible by three. If they had all been practitioners of the mystical arts, I would say that they made up the Prophetic Trinity and everything that had happened to the three of them had been engineered to keep them separated."

"But they were not all practitioners of magic. Only Illyana. And, obviously, she is no longer a factor. Neither is Rachel. Which still leaves only Kitty and this current situation. Frankly, I am hoping that we are able to actually keep her on **this **plane of existence." Kurt's comment was wry, somewhat sarcastic, but underneath, was a strong current of worry and hurt. He had lost enough friends over the years. He wasn't prepared to lose another. "So, how does all this knowledge of all these connections help us?"

With a sad shake of her head, Amanda slumped in her chair. "I'm not sure. Maybe not at all. But having all the knowledge possible can't hurt either, whether we have a use for it right now or not. Besides, I'm still convinced that this mysterious Bloodstone Amulet plays some kind of pivotal role in all this. I just wish I could get a good look at it, or talk to someone who has."

"I am afraid that, if Peter could not give you a description, then that, most likely, will not be possible. The only others who could would have are Illyana, and Kitty herself...."

"And one is dead, while the other is the reason we need the information." Amanda finished with a sigh of defeat. "I know. Not very likely, huh?"

"Not at all." Kurt agreed. Weary of discussions of Limbo, Soulswords, Amulets, death, disaster and disappearances, the German X-Man decided to change the subject for a short time. Looking at his watch, he glanced back at Amanda. "I wonder what is keeping Logan. It is after 11:00 PM and I would have expected him back long before now."

"Oh, God. Is it that late? Jeez. No wonder I'm starving." She glanced up from her perusal of the computer information with a slightly worried look. "Do you think we should be worried about Logan?"

Kurt couldn't help but smile at that. "Nein. I believe the Wolverine can take care of himself quite well. I am hoping his absence means he has come upon some information about Kitty."

"From your mouth to God's ear, Fuzzy."

**********************************************************************************************************************

Kitty was up and dressing a good ten minutes before the alarm went off with a loud buzz. Quickly, she reached over and hit the off button, her nerves not quite able to handle the added annoyance.

Her stomach was still rather unsettled, as it had been for weeks and weeks now every time she woke up. She knew it was because of the dreams, because of the things she was forced to live through every night.

This time had been one of the strangest yet. 

_She was inside the temple. How she knew was beyond her, but she did. Just as she knew everything had fallen apart. _

_All around her was fire, and blood, the screams of the wounded and dying as a battle raged. She could smell the burning flesh, the coppery tang of blood hanging in the air about her. It ran over the finely veined marble floor in a crimson river. And the metallic ring of metal on metal mixed in with all the other sounds, almost drowning them out, as sword met sword, shield met armor._

_Despite her instincts scrambling to the fore, screaming at her to escape, she ran toward the sounds of battle, instead of away from them. In her mind was only one purpose. She had to find him. If she could only get to him in time, they might yet be able to route this invasion and turn it to their favor._

_It wasn't until an enemy soldier, if you could call the monstrosity a soldier at all, appeared in front of her that she realized she was holding a sword of her own. With hardly a thought, her instincts took over and she dispatched the interloper within seconds, cleaving his grotesque head from his shoulders, despite the fact that she was hampered by some sort of long, flowing gown. _

_She barely even paused in her quest as she hopped over the fallen soldier's still body and made her way toward the area where the sounds of fighting were fiercest. As fast as her feet, and clothing, would allow her, she maneuvered through columned halls, and wide, ornately decorated passageways, letting her instincts guide her to where she wanted to go._

_Finally, she rounded a corner and stepped out into what was, obviously, the main chamber of the building. A vast, open, room, decorated in the center with a pentagram of inlaid silver on a gold-veined marble floor. It would have been exquisitely lovely, breathtaking, if it weren't littered with the bodies of dead and dying soldiers, while all around, dozens more continued the struggle._

_Trying to ignore the horrible spectacle, her eyes scanned the room, looking for the one she'd come for, knowing that, despite the sameness of the temple soldier's armor, she would have no trouble identifying him from the crowd. _

_Her mind steadfastly refused to acknowledge the horror that had so suddenly erupted around her out of the peaceful, still night. It was the only thing that was keeping her sane in this living nightmare. Spread out before her as it was now, however, the evidence was becoming ever more difficult to ignore. _

_The enemy soldiers were like none she'd ever seen, like none she hoped to see ever again. They were shades of green, purple, red, brown, and blue, covered in scales or fur, or even slime in some cases, horns protruding from their heads in places, snouts instead of noses, fangs and claws instead of teeth and hands. Many even had hooves where their feet should have been, and not a few had long, whip-like tails with pointed tips. Her mind whispered to her that they had been invaded by the armies of Hell itself._

_She didn't doubt it in the least._

_At last, her eyes settled on the tallest head in the crowd, the captain of the temple guard, her Champion, the man she was promised to. The man that was to have been her husband this very day. _

_Never taking her eyes from him as he fought with a one of the larger soldiers in the invading army, she made her way across the massive room, letting nothing stand in her way. To her surprise, none bothered her or tried to detain her. In fact, the enemy seemed to be studiously avoiding her. For what reason, she couldn't imagine. Perhaps, as a woman, they did not feel that she presented a plausible threat. She would have been glad to prove them wrong._

_The Champion dispatched his foe with all speed and efficiency, then whirled, looking for his next opponent. It was then that he spotted her coming across the floor toward him. She saw his astonishment, then his fear for her, and, at last, a kind of wide-eyed horror as he screamed something to her. _

_She couldn't make it out over the din of battle and she continued to make her way towards him as he came at her in a dead run. Too late, she realized he'd been trying to warn her._

_A large hand, with a grip like a steel vise, closed over her arm, dragging her to the side and she looked up, eyes wide and frightened, toward the man now holding her captive, expecting to find one of the monstrous soldiers. Instead, what she saw was a man whose appearance was almost angelic._

_His skin was an olive shade, long, dark hair hung past his shoulders and his build was broad and muscular. He wore no armor, only a dress tunic and leggings, such as any aristocrat of the kingdom might. But, when his dark, nearly black eyes, met hers, she knew that here was no angel. Here, perhaps, was the Devil himself._

_Strangely, despite the danger she was in, despite her conviction that she was about to die, despite every nerve and instinct in her body screaming for her to run, she found herself strangely drawn to this man. _

_When he raised his hand, she closed her eyes, expecting a blow. Instead, he lightly caressed her cheek with his fingertips and, when she looked at him again, he was smiling slightly. His hand trailed from her cheek, down the curve of her neck, to the amulet she wore on a long, golden chain._

_Then he spoke, and his voice was almost hypnotic. "Diyka. The last. Child of the Sword. I give you this chance. The battle is over and you have lost. Freely join with me, rule by my side." His words came to her slowly, as if she were hearing them from under water, and it took a moment for her overtaxed mind to comprehend what he had said._

_Before she could speak, with a cry of rage unlike any she had ever heard, her Champion flung himself at the strange warrior, knocking her from his grip as the two men set into battle. For a time, it looked as though the stranger would lose, that the Captain of the Guard, her betrothed, would best him._

_But, at once, it was over, as quickly as it had begun. In one, swift move, the stranger thrust his sword through his opponents armor. She watched in mute horror as the blade ran him through, saw his eyes as he dropped to the floor, and she finally got her first, good, clear look at his face. Peter's face._

_With a scream torn from her very soul, she ran to him, knelt down and cradled his head in her lap. The shadow of the victorious warrior fell over her and she knew, without a doubt this time, that her time was up. She had made her choice and he would not allow her to live. Even as she could not allow herself to live. There was too much at stake._

_She raised her eyes in time to see him raise his own sword, preparing for the killing blow. Quickly, before he could take her life, she spoke the words she had been taught in the case of just such an event as this, the words that consigned her soul, the soul of the man she loved, the souls of her sisters - who lay dead in another chamber - the soul of the high priestess - her teacher - and the objects this invader sought, into the Matrix, scattering them to the four winds._

When the dream had finally released her, Kitty had awoken screaming, her stomach rebelling. She'd barely made it to the bathroom in time.

This dream hadn't been anything like any of the others she'd experienced, other than the abiding theme of death and horror. But it hadn't been about any event, or any place, that she recognized. She hadn't even recognized the name she'd been called by the strangely familiar man. The man who'd killed Peter. 

If she let herself, she could still see his face as he died, could still feel his blood on her hands, blood he'd shed in her defense. It had been a different version of her dream of Cat and Peter in Limbo, she realized. The horror, grief, and pain had been the same. Only the setting had been different. But it applied to her, somehow. Her, and Peter. 

Even as she'd screamed in horror and grief, waking sick and covered in a cold sweat, she'd still heard the words of the Soulsword, words she'd been hearing now for days.

_Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen._

Kitty had no idea what it all meant, what she was supposed to remember, or whether it actually meant anything at all. All she knew was, between the dreams, the Soulsword, the Diaries, and her seemingly fruitless search for her father, she was slowly, but surely, losing her mind. And she was so tired of holding on. It would actually be a relief when it was all finally over.

She slipped on her earrings, took one last look in the mirror to check her appearance, then turned to leave. Almost as an afterthought, she turned back to the battered dresser, that matched all the other battered, abused furniture in the small hotel room, and picked up the Bloodstone Amulet, slipping the long chain over her head. It fell to rest just above her breasts and she found that she didn't mind the feel of it nearly as much as she might have thought. Wearing it was almost comforting.

Checking the clock, Kitty realized that, if she didn't leave now, she was going to be late. And she didn't think her contact was exactly the patient type. 

Not bothering to check how she looked again, she exited the room into the dingy hallway and headed for the stairs at a brisk walk.

Her contact's earlier call had confirmed what she'd suspected. Her father was in Hammer Bay. He'd told her to meet him and he'd give her what he believed to be the address where Carmen Pryde was staying. She couldn't afford to miss this opportunity.

If she didn't find her father soon, she never would. She could feel her control, her will, slipping, little by little, day by day. Soon, it would slip away from her and the sword would take her. 

Kitty was almost looking forward to it.

**********************************************************************************************************************

The bar, like the streets around it, was crowded and noisy, with loud rock music blaring, voices raised in celebration. Even during a normal weeknight, the party continued. The Legacy Virus was cured and Genosha was nearly giddy with relief. It reminded her somewhat of New Orleans at Mardi Gras.

Only, this elation had an edge to it. It was almost frantic in it's intensity. All over Hammer Bay, probably all over the entire island nation of Genosha, people were waiting for the other shoe to drop, almost holding their breath in anticipation of Magneto's next move. 

Every day since the Legacy cure took effect, Genosha's ruler had come out of his spiral- towered palace and addressed the army of citizens gathered in Magda Square. As always, his speeches were stirring, heartfelt, inspiring, rousing every mutant on the island to his cause, readying them to fight his war. 

And Kitty understood, perhaps as few others really could, that this time there would, indeed, be war. It was inevitable. Erik Lensherr had been given an army, almost overnight. He was not a man to let any such opportunity pass him by. It was his dream.

She wasn't sure how quickly it might come, but she suspected it would be more quickly than anyone was prepared for. The young ninja didn't want her father, her **human** father, on this island when the dogs of war were loosed. 

The UN was jumpy enough, from all accounts, as they looked to this small nation off the coast of Africa and waited. At the first sign of trouble, they were likely to launch a pre-emptive strike, out of fear for every human life on the planet. Magneto was, inarguably, one of the most powerful mutants - and most skilled in the use of that power - on the face of the earth. With an army of mutants nearly sixteen million strong he would be unstoppable. 

The rest of the world couldn't afford to ever let him step foot off Genoshan soil. Though Erik would know this, he would not let it stop him from trying. As of now, it was only a matter of hours before they saw, first hand, what might very well be the start of World War III.

That, Kitty told herself, was why she was here tonight, in this noisy, crowded, chaotic bar, with it's shabby décor, and even shabbier clientele. This was her last resort.

She had spent the first days here looking everywhere that she thought her father could possibly be, every one of the small, out of the way, clandestine human settlements on the island. She'd called in every favor, sent out feelers to every contact, done everything but walk up to the palace and ask Magneto himself if he knew of Carmen Pryde's whereabouts. But nothing had panned out. 

This man was her last contact, her last hope, to locate her father. Kitty hadn't wanted to call him. He'd been a close friend of Pete's, they worked espionage together on many occasions, and she knew the man wouldn't be particularly glad to see her. But, once, he'd promised Pete to help Kitty if she ever needed it. It broke her heart to ask this man to keep that promise, but she had no other choice. 

As she walked through the door, all eyes in the room turned her way, but she paid them no attention. Nor did she notice the appreciative male glances as she moved toward the bar, the way she was being looked up and down as if she were a side of beef on display at the butchers.

It took her only a moment to scan the room and find the person she was looking for. Without detour, she made her way to the back of the dim room and slid into the shadowy booth opposite her contact.

Their eyes met, and it was no trouble for Kitty to read the shadow of hostility there, even in the vague light of the bar. He was not happy to see her, any more than she was happy to be here. After a lengthy, uncomfortable, silence, it was Kitty who finally broke the ice.

"Hello, Pitman."

For a long moment, the slim, black man said nothing, simply continued his thorough study of her from beneath coal black lashes, with eyes nearly the same color.

The girl had changed. And not for the better, in his opinion. 

He'd watched her as she entered the bar, as she'd practically stalked to his table, taking in her skin tight black jeans that rode so low on her hips that she couldn't possibly be wearing any kind of underwear, the black, sleeveless, cropped t-shirt that left most of her midriff exposed and plunged to such a low v-neck that the neckline was almost a waistline. Add to that the long, wide hoop earrings, the dark, makeup, and the four inch spike heels, and Pitman had barely recognized her.

This was not the same Kitty Pryde he'd met only a three years ago at a London bar with Pete Wisdom. That girl had been friendly, almost bubbly, with an air of innocence about her, despite what he knew to be formidable experience and fighting skills with various mutant super-hero teams. He had liked that girl. At least, until she'd broken his friend's heart.

Pitman did not like this girl. Correction. This woman. For that's what she was. There was nothing girlish about the creature sitting across from him, watching him with those intelligent, golden eyes that used to hold so much warmth and laughter. There was no laughter now, no warmth, and certainly no innocence. There was a hardness to her, a weariness that he normally saw only on long time field agents that had been on one mission too many. 

It made him a little sad, to see it in someone so young. But there was also....something else. Something about her that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something that told him that things with her were not quite right, not quite as they should be, aside from the obvious. Something that told him she was dangerous, in a way he had never encountered.

Suddenly, he was in a hurry to be out of there, away from her. He was uncomfortable with her sitting across from him, so close that all she had to do was reach across the booth and grab him by the throat. It was unlike him, a seasoned field operative, to be this nervous around anyone, especially a young woman of Kitty's size, but his feelings were his feelings and he was prone to listen to them. They'd kept him alive on more than one occasion.

"'Lo, Kitty." He cleared his throat, to keep his voice from coming out in a high pitched squeak, before he continued. "You've....changed."

In the dim light, Pitman could have almost sworn he saw her eyes flash red for a moment, but then it was gone and he told himself it had to be a trick of the light. Her mouth curved into something resembling a smile, but he felt more like he was being snarled at by a jungle predator.

"We all change. That's life."

"Yeah. I suppose it is."

"What can you tell me?" she asked without further preamble. No use dragging this out and making it any more painful and uncomfortable than it already was. It was no trouble for her to tell that he didn't want to be here, especially not with her.

Reaching a hand inside his coat pocket, Pitman removed a small, folded piece of paper and slid it across the table to her. Kitty took it without looking at it, immediately slipping it into her right jean pocket.

"That's the address your father is supposed to be at two days from now. He skipped out of witness protection, you know."

"Yeah." she replied with a nod. "I know."

"He came here to help in the Legacy camps, but there're people looking for him, even now. The Yakuza does not give up. Ever."

"I understand." And she did. She'd fought the Japanese Mafia when she was fourteen years old, because of her father's involvement. Had nearly lost her soul to Ogun because of that involvement. Kitty had no illusions about what she could be up against. She had beat them then, she could beat them now, if she had to.

"Since Legacy was cured, most of the humans on the island have gone into hiding, moving from place to place every few days. They're scared."

"They should be."

Pitman nodded his agreement, but the flat tone of her voice, the cold look in her eyes, sent a chill up his spine. What the hell had happened to this girl in the last couple of years to make her like this? It was almost....unnatural.

"Yes. Anyway, I couldn't get any info on where they are now, but my sources say he's with the group that'll be at this address in approximately 48 hours. It's a basement not far from Magda Square. It's the best I could do."

"It'll be enough." It would have to be. "Thanks."

"I did it for Pete." he told her flatly, letting some of his pent up hostility, just a little, flow into the words. He couldn't help it. Pete Wisdom had been his friend and, in their line of work, real friends were hard to come by. He couldn't help but blame this young woman for his friends death, even if it wasn't fair. "With this, I've kept my promise. Don't call me again."

"Fair enough." With that, Kitty slid back out of the booth and headed for the door, leaving the MI5 agent staring after her in true puzzlement. He was almost glad his old friend wasn't alive to see that girl like this. It would've broke his heart all over again.

The crowd seemed to have actually grown, if such a thing were possible, in the few minutes since Kitty had come in. Now, the small dance floor, as well as every other bit of free floor space, seemed to be crammed with dancers. 

She was having a tough time squeezing through the throng of pressed bodies and was weighing whether or not it would be prudent to just phase through them all. This was Genosha, after all, and most, if not all, of the people in this bar were mutants as well, so it shouldn't exactly freak anyone out. Still, out of habit, she hesitated to use her powers in public.

Through sheer luck and persistence, Kitty managed to squeeze her way to within a few feet of the door before coming up against her next obstacle, which happened to be another person who seemed just as boxed in as she was.

"Pardon me. I''m afraid it's a little crowded in here." she offered by way of apology as she tried to maneuver around to the side, only to be stopped by a hand dropping to her shoulder and a cultured, softly accented voice that gave her immediate pause.

"Think nothing of it, my dear. It is quite crowded here. Though, in this case, it has proven more of an advantage than a disadvantage."

Kitty's head jerked up, and she looked directly into the face from her dream, or rather her nightmare. The same face, she suddenly realized, that she'd seen on the man who'd approached her in New York the day she'd left. Why hadn't she connected them before?

Her heart leapt in fear and the world seemed to actually tilt to one side for a moment. Her mind screamed for her to run, but her legs wouldn't move, and panic welled up in her, so strong that she nearly choked on it.

He was smiling down at her, this stranger who seemed to be everywhere that she was, and all she could do was stand frozen, staring up at him. 

His lips curved into a smile, though it didn't reach anywhere near his eyes, as he studied her closely, his gaze seeming to linger either on her cleavage or the amulet she wore. 

"What...what are you doing here?" she asked when she finally found her voice again. "Are you following me?"

"Ah, I am afraid you've found me out." His face suddenly became deadly serious and his grip oh her shoulder tightened. Kitty knew she should get out of there, get away from him, but she couldn't. Her body wasn't obeying any of her brain's commands. Fear was overwhelming her and she was afraid that, soon, she would be reduced to screaming hysterically and falling to the floor. "I have been searching the world for you."

"What do you mean? Why? What do you want with me?" Her voice was barely a whisper as she looked deeply into his dark, almost fathomless, eyes. She felt as if she could drown in his eyes if she looked long enough.

Slowly, his left arm came around her waist, pulling her even closer against his solid frame, as his right hand left her shoulder, his fingertips grazing gently along her cheek. He kept his gaze locked with hers and, suddenly, she was back inside her dream, staring into the eyes of a warrior who both frightened and attracted her. 

"Katherine. Child of the Sword. You are the last." 

Almost the exact same words he'd said to her in her dreams. Around Kitty, the edges of reality seemed to blur, going soft and insubstantial. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a part of her still screamed in fear and panic, screeching at her to leave, run away while she still could, but it was far away, becoming fainter and fainter, until she could barely hear it at all.

Why should she run from this man? What possible threat could he be to her when he touched her so gently, held her so tightly? 

"I don't understand...."

"You will understand in time." He stroked her hair, a motion meant to calm and soothe and she leaned into his touch. It was familiar to her, almost as if she had known it before, in another life. "I am your destiny, Katherine. Just as this..." His hand slid across the amulet hanging at her neck, his fingertips just brushing the tops of her breasts as he did so. "...is your destiny as well. Come with me, and I will give you the answers that you seek."

"Who are you?" she breathed, unable to do more than gaze into his face, to press herself closer to his body. 

Within her, there was a vague sense that this wasn't right. That something was very wrong. Another face swam before her minds eye, a handsome face with thick, black hair and sapphire blue eyes, but she shook it form her consciousness. It wasn't important. Nothing was important but here, now, this man and this moment. 

"Forgive me." The man inclined his head slightly. "I am Vargas."

"Vargas." Kitty repeated the name, rolled it around on her tongue, tested it. "How did you find me?"

"We are connected." he replied, as if that were all the explanation that should ever be required. 

She shook her head sluggishly, feeling almost as if she'd been drugged. The air seemed thick, the sounds around them muffled, as if she were hearing them through ears stuffed with cotton. The only solid thing, the only real thing, seemed to be this man. Vargas.

"How? How could we be connected? I don't know you..."

"Ah, but you do." He interrupted her, both of his hands now resting on her hips, just above the waistband of her jeans. "Look inside yourself. You will see."

Closing her eyes, Kitty did as he asked, swaying on her feet as she did so. But everything inside her was all jumbled up, confused. Even the Soulsword was there, glowing behind her eyes, trying to speak to her, but she couldn't understand what it was saying. There was only a vague, fuzzy impression of urgency, panic, but it couldn't touch her now. She was floating on a soft cloud, soothed by the feeling of freedom that seemed to emanate from this mysterious stranger.

"Where will you take me?" 

If she'd had her eyes open, Kitty would have seen a very different smile briefly light the face before her. It was a smile full of triumph, greed, and malice. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and, when she did open her eyes, all she saw was an expression of concern and affection. 

"I will take you to my home. It is far from this place, but the journey will not take us long. Once we are there, all will become clear to you and you will understand your destiny. Our destiny. For it is glorious."

Kitty could only nod in agreement. Her tongue felt thick, too thick for her to speak, and the amulet around her neck was suddenly very heavy, so heavy that it was dragging her down, down into a dark, lightless place. She struggled against it, tried to keep the darkness from claiming her, but she was too weak. The darkness was winning.

Dimly, in that part of her brain that was still functioning rationally, Kitty realized that he was leading her outside, away from the other people. And she realized that this was not a desirable thing. But she just didn't have the strength, or the willpower, to care anymore. 

Besides, he'd said he was her Destiny. If he was her Destiny, then she had to go along with him. Didn't she?

They stepped through the door, away from the noise and heat of the bar and into the cool, clear night. The cold, slightly moist air against her skin had the effect of a splash of cold water on her face, clearing her senses a little. It was enough to make her hesitate, to pull back when he would have propelled her forward.

"Wait....where are we going again?" she asked groggily, trying to gather her thoughts, but they were slippery as melting jello. Every time she thought she had a firm grip on them, they poured through her fingers, leaving her disoriented and vaguely uneasy.

Had she been paying attention to her companion at that point, Kitty would have seen the flash of irritation pass over his aristocratic features before he schooled them once again into a semblance of patience and fond regard. "We are going to my home. As we agreed upon."

This time, instead of blindly following his lead, Kitty frowned, shooting him a confused look. "But...but I can't. I can't go with you."

"And, why is that, my dear?" Vargas practically purred the question, his voice pitched low, husky, seducing, as he maneuvered her into the shadows at the side of the building. With consummate ease, he steered her close to the bar's outer walls, in the deep shadows of an ornamental tree, where no one could possibly see them. In her dazed, befuddled state, Kitty didn't protest, but went along meekly. 

Even when he pressed her back against the rough wood of the building, trapping her between the hard, unyielding surface and his own body, she didn't object, simply continued to study him with that odd expression, a mixture of confusion and trepidation. He pressed his advantage, molding her body to his own, letting her feel the soft curves of her own body matched to the hard, flat planes of his. 

She looked only slightly more disturbed by this new development, but he didn't let that bother him. Not in the least. 

This was not as he had planned. His intention had been to remove her from this area completely. Her friends were here as well, looking for her, and he didn't want to risk them getting to her before he could bind her to him totally, in a way that no amount of strength, physical or mystical, could break.

But this one would not go willingly, even in her current state. She would not simply let him lead her away, the lamb to the slaughter. Even now, her instincts worked to protect her, to keep her out of danger.

It was of no consequence. Though it would not be his preference, he could complete the binding right here, right now. If necessary, he would take her in this very spot, against this wall, like a common whore. In her present state of mind, he doubted she would object and, even if she did, it wouldn't matter. There was no one she could call to for help, no one who would even hear her, much less come to her rescue.

Yes, better to do it now, get it over with. Then, there would be no danger of his plans being thwarted. Once done, it could not be undone and he could complete the last two bloodstones at his leisure.

Kitty looked around her, taking in her present situation, her entire being in turmoil. Part of her, the part that was still somewhat aware of what was happening, was screaming at her, at the top of it's voice, for her to escape, to run. Another part of her, a part she hadn't even been aware existed, was telling her to give in, making her want to give in, to do anything this man wanted.

Trapped as she was between him and the building, she could barely move and she could clearly feel the outline of his body, pressed tightly, almost painfully, against her own. When he leaned down, put his lips against her neck, Kitty shivered.

His lips were cold, almost like ice, as they slid across her skin. Why was he so cold? Why weren't his lips warm. Warm and soft like.....

But her train of thought abruptly left her. What had she been thinking? She couldn't remember, had no idea what the thoughts were that had fled her mind. His hands were moving over her body now, touching her, caressing her, and she moaned softly, one of her arms sliding up to his hair, holding his head to her throat.

She closed her eyes and whispered softly. "Peter."

As the name passed her lips, it was as if she'd been suddenly, violently, thrown head first into an ice cold lake. Her awareness, the panic, the fear, the instinct to fight what was happening to her, it all returned in an almost overwhelming rush. 

Kitty blinked, clearing her eyes even as her mind cleared and, she realized, with a sick horror, what was going on. Sickened and furious at herself for what she was allowing this man to do, Kitty pushed at him trying to shove him away, but his body was like a brick wall and he wouldn't budge.

"Stop it! Get **off** of me!" She growled the words as she began to struggle with him. She should have been able to easily dislodge him, but her blows seemed to affect him not in the least. He simply stood his ground, grabbed her wrists, and pinned them to the wall on either side of her head. 

His eyes, when he looked at her, pinned her just as effectively as her body, fire seeming to leap from their inky depths. 

"You will **not** fight me." he hissed, all traces of courtesy and culture gone from his voice. "This time, you will not escape. My patience is at an end. You will come to me willingly or I will take you by force. It makes no difference. But I will have you. Too long have I been denied what is rightfully mine."

Fear swamped her at what he was suggesting, but it was quickly overwhelmed by an all consuming, burning rage. How dare he! Who the hell did he think he was? This man did not know who he was messing with.

"I'm not yours. I don't know who, or what, you are, but I'll die before I let you touch me again." She spat the words at him through gritted teeth and let her body do what came naturally, intending to phase out of his grasp and beat him to within an inch of his life.

To her horror, however, her body would not obey. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't phase. Kitty's eyes went wide and her heart leapt into her throat as she realized that she was well and truly trapped. She couldn't defend herself against this man in any way. 

_**What the hell is he?**_

At her obvious surprise, Vargas laughed, the sound low and cruel. "Surely, my dear, you did not think to escape me in that manner." He lowered his head, till they were nearly nose to nose, and she could feel his ice cold breath on her face. "You should have stayed where you were. You should have stayed with your Champion and called the sword when you had the chance. Now, you are mine."

This time, there was no mistake. His eyes flared red, flames leaping from their depths, and Kitty felt something within herself stir as well. A part of her, a small part now, but growing with every passing second, wanted this man, wanted what she knew was coming, even as the part that was still essentially Kitty recoiled in horror. 

But she couldn't lie to herself, however much she might want to. She knew, if she could see her own reflection at the moment, her eyes would match his, would be glowing the same hellish, flame red, a reflection of her own corruption, her own evil. How they were connected, she didn't know, but she knew they were. In that, at least, he had been truthful.

Kitty knew, without being told, that he wanted the Soulsword. He wanted something else as well. She understood that instinctively as she gazed into those crimson eyes, something that only she could give him, something only she could control. If only she knew what it was. The knowledge was at the edge of her awareness, like a half remembered dream, just out of her reach, and she couldn't quite grasp it.

Apparently, Vargas took her sudden silence, her sudden stillness, as acceptance and he pressed himself even more tightly to her as his mouth swiftly covered her. It was all Kitty could do not to gag, but she fought the reflex and bit him instead, viciously, drawing blood before he jerked away. 

With an oath, he struck her across the face, hard. Kitty saw the blow coming and braced for it, letting her head move with the impact to absorb some of the force, but still it stunned her momentarily. She slumped in his grasp, would have fallen if he still hadn't been holding her up, as she waited for the world to stop spinning.

As her head lolled to one side, he released one of her wrists and his hand came up to cup her chin, fingers biting painfully into her cheek and jaw as he forced her head around once more to face him, nearly lifting her from her feet. His face was a mask of fury as blood trickled slowly down his chin from the wound in his bottom lip. 

"If you do that again, if you continue to fight me, I will do things to you that will make you wish you were never born." he hissed menacingly. "I have no intention of killing you. Not now. But I will make you wish for death."

He hit her again for emphasis and Kitty felt her consciousness begin to blur, the edges of the world going gray and smoky. She was about to pass out. Fighting it with everything she had in her, Kitty began to struggle against him once more, but she knew it was useless. Whoever, whatever, this man was, she couldn't physically fight him. He seemed immune to her efforts, treating her as no more than a fly, buzzing around his head.

She felt him shake her, command her to stop fighting, but she ignored him. Then, he pulled her forward and slammed her viscously against the wall, once, twice, hard enough to rattle her teeth, and the blackness nearly engulfed her. She fought it with all her might, struggling to remain conscious, knowing what would happen to her if she blacked out.

Then, she was sliding bonelessly down the wall of the building to sit on the slightly damp ground with a jarring thud. It took her pain fogged brain a little longer than it normally would to realize that Vargas was no longer pinning her in place, no longer manhandling her, no longer speaking to her.

Kitty landed on the ground with a soft groan and managed to pry her eyes open in time to see Vargas go stumbling backwards and hear an all too familiar voice growl out from the darkness.

"Get yer god damned hands offa her." There was the familiar "snickt" as Wolverine unsheathed his claws and crouched, ready to spring at Vargas, who stood his ground regarding the newcomer coldly and completely without fear. "If ya wanna fight with somebody, bub, why don't ya give me a try."

Seeming completely at ease and unthreatened, the tall man actually smiled at Logan, though the smile was cold and hard. "So, she has not left all of her champions behind after all. Pity."

Wolverine stared at the man standing a few feet from him, arms crossed over his chest, watching him so dispassionately, and recognized him for exactly what he was. A predator, a killer. But something else as well. His scent wasn't exactly human, and neither were those red, glowing eyes. 

"Yeah, well, sorry ta disappoint ya, but Kit's got more'n one of us lookin' out fer her. Ya want her, ya gotta go through me first. I oughta kill ya fer what ya already done."

Vargas laughed, the harsh, brittle sound ringing through the streets as he regarded the man before him with disdain. "You are welcome to try, little man. But you have no idea what you are dealing with. Then again, you never did."

With a growl of pure, animal rage, Logan launched himself at the stranger, intending to cut him into ribbons, claws extended and ready for use. Before he could reach him, however, Vargas seemed to simply fade into the night, as a wisp of smoke fades from sight in the open air, his voice echoing from where he had been only a second before. Wolverine's claws sliced through nothing but thin air.

"We are not finished, Katherine."

At the base of the wall, Kitty still sat where she'd landed, arms wrapped around her legs, head down, rocking back and forth. In a second, Logan was kneeling beside her, trying to look her over, assess her for injuries.

"Kit, are ya all right? Are ya hurt?" He reached out to touch her, but she flinched away from him and he dropped his hand, a sick knot of fear lodging itself in his chest. Surely, he'd gotten here in time. Surely the man hadn't had time to..... NO! He refused to even consider the possibility.

"No, Logan." she moaned, still rocking herself and keeping her face buried in her knees. "I'm not all right. He didn't hurt me, not really.....but I'm so far from all right. I don't think I'll ever be all right again."

"If he didn't hurt ya, then what's wrong?" She was obviously overwrought, but at least she didn't seem to be badly injured and Logan breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Who th' hell was he? Or maybe I oughta ask, what was he?"

Kitty shook her head violently, long chestnut hair flying around her in disarray. "His name is Vargas. He's a monster.....And so am I."

She sounded so lost, so forlorn, that it broke Logan's heart. Ignoring her protests, he sat down on the ground beside her, gathering her into his arms and trying to pull her to him. To his surprise, she jerked violently away from him. Like a shot, she was standing, putting distance between them, keeping her back to him.

"DON"T TOUCH ME!" Kitty practically screamed it out, though she was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe now. "For the love of God, Logan, get away from me. You don't know...." 

"What don't I know, Kit?" he asked quietly, coming up behind her, but not trying to touch her again. She was nearly hysterical and he needed to get her calmed down, find out what had happened, why she hadn't fought or phased herself away. "That ya made a mistake? Tell me what happened. Ya know I'll understand, whatever it is. It's not yer fault that...whatever the hell he was....tried ta take advantage of ya."

She stood there for so long, so quietly, that he began to wonder if she would speak again. Finally, after a long silence, she did.

"I couldn't fight him. I couldn't even phase away." she whispered quietly, brokenly. Had it not been for his enhanced senses, he doubted he would have even heard her. "And...oh, Logan...part of me didn't even want to. Part of me wanted what he was going to do. Part of me wants to become what he is."

Her statement didn't shock him. Logan had expected something like this, though the man, or whatever that creature was, had been a surprise. It only served to confirm that she need help, that she couldn't handle this alone. "Kitty, we know what's goin' on with that damned Soulsword. Betsy told us. Come back with me. We can all fight this thing together." He tried to lay a hand on her shoulder but, again, she jerked away, still not allowing him to see her face. 

"It doesn't matter anymore. You can't help me. It's too late...."

"Pun'kin, it's never too late. Not as long as ya've got friends here willin' ta help ya." This time, he laid his hand on her arm and, instead of jerking away from him, Kitty whirled to face him. And what he saw made him take an involuntary step back from her. 

"Still think you can save me, old man?" Kitty asked, her voice cold now, hollow, her eyes blazing a fiery, demonic red. He could see the flames literally flickering there. "From this?" She raised on hand, indicating her eyes. "Or this?" 

As she asked the last question, she closed her eyes briefly, concentrated, and the Soulsword suddenly appeared beside her, glowing a bright, brilliant white in the dim lighting of the street, casting almost a luminescent glow around Kitty herself.

"This is how close I am, Logan. It never leaves me now. It's always here, just out of sight, in my mind, in my dreams. It's here when I wake up in the morning and when I go to bed at night. All I have left to do is just reach out and take it." 

Her hand came up, reaching toward the sword and Logan lunged forward, grabbing her arm before her hand could make contact.

"Kitty, I can't let ya do that." Horrified at how far this had gone, and how quickly, Wolverine tried to think of what to say, what to do, to convince her to let them help her. If she wouldn't accept some help, and soon, he knew that it would be too late. He wasn't prepared to lose her.

She didn't resist as he lowered her arm back to her side and slowly, as he watched, the Soulsword faded back into the night as if it had never been.

"I know." Dropping her head, Kitty closed her eyes again, praying for strength she knew she no longer possessed. "Neither can I. I have to hold out for two more days. Two days. That's all." She raised her head once more, looking him dead in the face, her eyes still glowing, though not as brightly now. "Then, I can just let go. I can't stop it, Logan, and nobody can stop it for me. You can't help me, though I appreciate the thought." 

She took a step back from him, trying to give him at least a small smile, but the effect was ruined by the tears streaming down her face. "I learned something tonight. I learned that you can't fight fate. You can't fight your Destiny. It always wins in the end." 

Before he could stop her, she turned, running away from him as swiftly as her legs would carry her. He started to follow, and she turned, calling back to him over her shoulder. "If you love me, Logan, don't follow me and don't look for me again. And, if we do happen to meet someday, down the road, I'll expect you to keep your promise."

Feeling as if he were being torn in two, Wolverine watched her disappear from sight down the long, dark street. He followed close behind her still, unwilling to let her go, but he lost her around a corner. Undoubtedly, she had phased herself into the ground, or one of the nearby buildings, but he couldn't tell which one. She left no scent when she was phased.

Unwilling to give up, the feral mutant spent the rest of the night trying to track her, trying to pick up her scent, but without any luck. He wanted to find her, wanted to force her to let them help, but, inside he knew it was no use. He'd seen what she was becoming, had known as soon as he saw the Soulsword, called up so easily, with no more than a thought on her part, that Kitty was already lost. 

All that was left now was the wait.

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**To all of my reviewers: **I could not possibly have gotten this far without you guys. Thanks so much for your support.

**Caliente:** Hey, Whoa works for me :) Yes, much confusion in chapter 13, but I figured that was as it should be when you suddenly wake up to the kind of morning they were having. You've got the two girl's identities down pat. As for the Spanish guy, yes and no. Confusing, I know, but it will all become clear in time. You'll really hate him a lot by then. Not much of a Neal fan here, either and we won't be seeing him much more. As for Kurt and Amanda hooking up, well, you should have your answer in this chapter. How could I possibly keep them apart? They've been in love forever. Yes, the sibling thing is a little weird, but at least he's not a Summers. Rogue is definitely having a lot thrown at her, and it's only going to get stranger. We will definitely be seeing Remy, but probably not until chapter 16. I have a surprise in store for him and Rogue. (grins and cackles evilly.) Hadn't said until this chapter where Peter was going, but now you know. And Wolvie is a doll, isn't he? Just love him.

**Kirayoshi: **Well, of course. Everyone has to work for their happy ending. At least I'm not going to string them out for years and then kill one of them like Marvel did. I think everyone has pretty much figured out the two female mystery figures by now and you've definitely got them right. The villian, who you saw in this chapter is called Vargas, is going to be my sort of all purpose evil guy and he has some surprises in store for everyone before it's over. We will have the definitive answer to the question: Is it the Soulsword or the Amulet? by the end of chapter 16, but I think you can see where it's headed from what happened here. Peter is definitely going to try to move on with his life, but it won't be easy. In reality, he'll probably only have a few days before all heck rips loose again and the dead begin to rise. Or at least the presumed dead. As you saw, Logan already found Kitty once, and it wasn't pretty. But you know he's not ready to give up yet. And keep your eyes peeled in the next chapter or two for dragon sightings, hopefully in a way no one is going to expect. 

**Araya-Michiru: **No, our Amanda doesn't really have anything much in common with the Evo Amanda, except Kurt, of course. They might have ended up with more in common if Evo hadn't been canceled, but now we'll never know. In the comics, Kurt was abandoned by his mother and raised by Margali Szardos, a gypsy circus performer. He and Amanda (whose real name is Jimaine Szardos) were raised together and they fell in love. But, when Kurt left the circus, Margali kept Jimaine from following him. She showed up years later as the stewardess Amanda Sefton and got back into Kurt's life not long after he joined the X-Men. They've been together, off and on, ever since. She's a very neat character, part stewardess, part sorceress, reluctant superhero, and with a no-nonsense attitude, love of life, and a great sense of humor. Now that we know where Peter is, is it where you thought? Genosha, as you saw from this chapter, is a sort of dark place right now and it won't get much better anytime soon. And, confuzzled is definitely a legitimate word, no matter what my spell checker says. There are some states of mind that only confuzzled can describe.

**T.A. Pixiestix: **Making perfect sense to me. Thanks. The confusion will lift, slowly but surely, and don't worry, I know how you feel about Kitty and the Soulsword. There are times when I want to just chuck it all, have her grab hold of it, and get on with the story, but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun then, so I try to restrain myself. Though we are coming much closer to the time for that to happen. I'm glad you didn't think chapter 13 was boring. I was sort of worried about that, what with all the dialogue, but it had to be done to move the story along and I really couldn't find any way around it. Believe me, I tried. A lot. Of everything, group dialogue is what I'm the very worst at writing. And, please, don't worry about rambling or boring me. I am the Queen of lengthy writing, in case you haven't noticed. Sorry about the cookies. I don't have any either, or I'd send you one.

***B(): **Glad the little longer wait while I went into X-Treme angst mode over chapter 13 wasn't a put off. I'm glad, since you're fairly new to the X-Men comic world, that things are making sense for you. I've been kinda worried about that, considering this whole Soulsword, Legacy, Destiny, alternate dimensional fiasco encompasses about 25 years of X-Men history. I'm trying not to assume that everyone out there knows everything there is to know about X-Men history. God knows, I sure don't. I found out exactly how much I didn't know when I started this. So, if I go off the deep end with stuff you've never heard of, stop me. Please. The Essential X-Men books are great for getting a sense of all that history and, if you happen to come across any, so are the X-Men Classic comics. They're reprints of the older books from the 70's and 80's without having to mortgage your house to get them.

**Lia Fail: **I'm glad you liked the title for chapter 13. It was a last minute decision. I had originally picked another title for it, but then I happened to pick up my X-Men #110 (Yes mine has many tear stains too. I can barely look at the cover without bawling.) and the title just jumped out at me. I thought it would be very ironic, considering that it's Peter who's leaving the X-Men because Kitty's gone, instead of the other way around. But, I realized something as I was re-reading that comic. In the part where Kitty is remembering Illyana's death and she goes out to the pool, to find Peter sitting there in his swim trunks with a towel around his neck, there is something very wrong. They show Peter in human form. At the time, because of a head injury, he was stuck in his metal form and couldn't change back. That didn't change until the Exaclibur Fatal Attractions story line several months later. It has absolutely no bearing on this story and doesn't change the fact that One Tin Soldier... was a great issue. Just my strange, random, observation for no particular reason. I thought it was interesting. And, yes, Peter as the champion was the only person that made sense. Not only can he turn to organic steel, which repels magic, but he was the only one of the X-Men not corrupted by the demonic influences during inferno. There was also something that the demon, N'astirh, said about him during Inferno that I'll be using later. I love Amanda. We'll be seeing more of her, as you saw in this chapter. I love Logan, too. Storm, I sometimes have problems with. I love her, but it's hard to write her and keep that regal, Ororo attitude without making her too cold and bitchy. I'm trying to keep an even keel with her, so I'm glad you think it's working. 

**CaptJesus: **You have my heartfelt sympathy regarding your ISP. The good Lord knows that AOL ain't no picnic sometimes, so I can definitely relate. I'm thrilled that you like the character portrayals. It's very important to me to stay true to that. Like you said, Marvel used to care about that, but now I think they just want more outrageous story lines, sexier costumes, and stranger mutants in order to sell books. It truly saddens me. It's definitely that there are years of back history that go with this story. I know this because my den is now covered in X-Men comics from the last 25 years or so. But, it's really been a joy so far to write this because I get revisit all my favorite comics and my favorite characters. I'm glad you're enjoying it too, and I'm really glad it's reconnected you with some of your favorites from the past. The Magik series was a favorite of mine too, as was Illyana Rasputin. I still miss her. If I've helped you, even in a small way, rediscover some of that, then the work I'm putting into this is more than worth it. As for sneaky, wellll....I have been known to be a little sneaky,so you never know what might be coming next.

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**Coming Soon: **We'll be in Genosha for the next two chapters or so. In chapter 15, we're going to pay an old friend, and an old enemy, a visit and things in Genosha will heat up, as war looms, Logan, Kurt, and Amanda continue their search for Kitty, and this mystery continues to unfold. 

If you're reading, I'd love your review. Reviews are necessary to life. 

**A/N: **The four or so lines of conversation between Kitty and Rachel are from Excalibur #75. 


	15. Through The Fire

**Disclaimer:** I have no X-Men of my own. They all belong to Marvel. But, since they're not using Colossus anymore, I really wish they'd give him to me. No money being made here. Sure that's a big surprise to everyone.

Guess what? No one dies in this chapter! It's a miracle!

* * *

**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 15 – Through The Fire**

It was just after sunrise when Logan, frustrated, heartsick, and exhausted, made his way through the dingy motel lobby and into the even dingier stairwell. 

With a weariness that went bone deep, physically as well as emotionally, he made his way up the three flights of narrow stairs to the floor where his, Kurt's, and Amanda's rooms were located. As he entered the narrow hallway, he turned to his immediate left, his feet almost shuffling as they carried him toward the correct door by autopilot. 

He paid no mind to the stained, threadbare, carpet under his feet, the cracked, graying plaster of the ceiling over his head, nor the faded, peeling, wallpaper, which might have once been yellow, but was now just a dishwater beige. All he was interested in was getting to his room and falling into bed.

Logan couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt this tired and worn, or this discouraged. Usually, he was the one who never gave up, never said die, who fought, tooth and nail, until the end. No matter what. 

But, after what he'd witnessed last night, all the determination had drained right out of him, like water through a sieve, leaving him empty.

How could he fight something like this? How could Kitty? 

The feral X-Man had been asking himself those questions over and over again all night long as he searched nearly the entire city of Hammer Bay for the girl who was the closest thing to a daughter he would ever have. 

He hadn't found her, of course. He hadn't really imagined that he would, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try, wouldn't keep trying. And those questions were still circling in his mind, round and round, but there weren't any answers to be had. 

There probably never would be.

Stopping front of the door to his room, he took the key from the front pocket of his blue jeans and fumbled with it for a few moments before managing to get the stubborn lock to turn and release. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside, kicked it closed behind him, and went straight to one of the two double beds in the room. 

With a grunt, he sat down on the faded bedspread and pried off his boots, glancing at the other bed as he did so. 

It obviously hadn't been slept in, but Logan wasn't surprised. He'd known, as soon as Amanda had shown up, that it wouldn't be long before those two were together again. Truth be told, he'd been damned glad to see her, for the Elf's sake as much as Kitty's. 

Kurt had been floundering recently, not really knowing quite what to do with himself, what with the breakup of Excalibur and trying to reintegrate with the X-Men. Going from team leader to just another body in spandex, so to speak. 

Then, there was that damned idea of becoming a priest that he'd toyed with for a while. That had been an obviously bad idea. Obvious to everyone but Kurt, and the Elf had been the only one surprised when it hadn't panned out. 

Now, he needed someone to anchor him, to remind him occasionally that he was Kurt Wagner, the man, as well as Nightcrawler, the X-Man. Amanda had always been able to do that for him before. With any luck, she could still do it now. And, besides, Logan liked Amanda. Always had.

Not bothering to pull the covers back, the Canadian X-Man lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. He'd get a few hours sleep, touch base with the witch and the elf, then pick up his search for Kitty. 

If he had to, he'd knock on every door in Hammer Bay until he found her. 

Logan had no doubt that he would, eventually, find her. That was a given. He was a born tracker, the best at what he did. What he would do once he found her was another matter completely and he hadn't quite got it figured out yet. But he would not give up.

The situation might be hopeless, there might be nothing he could do to help her at this point, but he would not quit. Not yet. Not until he was assured, without even the lingering shadow of a doubt, that there was no other choice. 

Not until he knew that the darkness had taken her and there was no hope of getting her back.

Then, he would keep the promise he'd made her.

* * *

The sun was well up by the time she finally made her slow, miserable way back to her motel. Other than the fact that it was daylight, Katherine Pryde had no idea what time it might be.

She'd spent all night, as well as the very early morning, walking the dark, silent city, thinking. 

Over the course of the night, she'd cried at least a million tears. For herself. For Logan. For Peter. For a future that she so desperately wanted, but could never have. For everything, and everyone, that had been, or would be, destroyed by this whole mess before it was all over. 

She'd been with the X-Men for a decade and Shadowcat could easily count on one hand, and have fingers left to spare, the number of situations that had left her feeling totally helpless and defeated 

Unfortunately, this was one of those situations.

Normally, she was a fighter, the first one, other than maybe Logan, to jump into the fray, ready to kick ass and take names. But, how did you fight something like this?

No matter what she did, no matter how much thought she gave the matter, Kitty couldn't see any way out. She was trapped, as neatly as a rat in a maze. And by someone, something, she didn't even understand. 

Kitty knew that, as soon as she closed her eyes, she's see that face again, would see those dark eyes, boring into her very soul. Would feel the call of the darkness that he represented. The call that a part of her wanted so desperately to answer.

Who was he, this Vargas that seemed to hold such power over her? And what, exactly, did he want with her, other than the obvious? It wasn't just the Soulsword. There was more to it than that. She knew it, could feel it. But what?

That, she told herself, was the million dollar question. 

It all connected together, the dreams, the Soulsword, this mysterious and dangerous Vargas, Destiny's Diaries, even this Amulet that she wore. 

The problem was, she just didn't know how, or for what purpose. All she had were random pieces of a huge puzzle, but all the connecting pieces were missing and she had no idea how to find them, or if she even could. And time was, most assuredly, running out. That was more than obvious from her actions in the last twelve hours.

Last night, she'd betrayed Peter, betrayed herself, betrayed everyone and everything she'd ever believed in and she still didn't know why. She'd nearly gone with Vargas, nearly let him convince her that she wanted him. She'd barely escaped him. Wouldn't have escaped him if it hadn't been for Logan. It didn't even bear thinking about what would have happened to her if he hadn't come along. And what scared her the most was the feeling that, in the end, she would have welcomed it.

Kitty was frightened, angry, frustrated, and very deeply ashamed. For what she'd done, for what she had allowed a complete stranger to do, she would never be able to forgive herself. So how could she possibly expect forgiveness from anyone else?

_**Maybe, Pryde, it's time to stop crying and start dealing. You're stronger, tougher, than this.**_

The thought came to her as she passed quickly through the quiet lobby of her motel, stopping at the small elevator nestled in a little alcove off to one side. She decided that, maybe, that wasn't a bad idea. Nothing could be gained by sitting around moping and feeling sorry for herself. 

As she pressed the button for the fifth floor, Kitty tried to make some coherent sense out of everything that had happened in the last weeks, tried to put it all together in a way that she could relate to. Maybe, if she could do that, could start dealing with this whole thing intellectually, instead of emotionally, she could find some answers. 

She was supposed to be a genius, for Christ's sake. Surely she could come up with an better idea than crying, bemoaning her fate, and running away in denial. That kind of behavior would only work against her, not for her.

The elevator doors slid open with a rather disturbing groan and she stepped inside the almost claustrophobically small metal box, wincing as even her negligible weight made the whole contraption seem to sway on it's cables. 

_**Note to self. Next time, use the stairs. Don't want to die quite yet.**_

When the doors finally, laboriously, slid closed again, and she was sufficiently satisfied that she wasn't going to be crashing to her death in the next few moments, Kitty let her thoughts turn back to the problems at hand. 

It wasn't like her to come so close to just giving up, to be so ready to admit defeat. Then again, she hadn't really been feeling much like herself for the last little while. 

With uncanny ability, one that she wasn't even consciously aware of, she effectively turned off her emotions, flipping a mental switch and letting the analytical side of her nature take over, as she weighed the problem, along with what few clues she had, looking at her options, trying to decide on her best course of action.

She took each thing in turn, picked it up, turned it around, mentally weighing them against one another, looking at it all from every possible side. 

In the end, what she came up with was that she was at a standstill, with everything, until she could contact her father. The Soulsword, Logan and her friends, everything, would just have to wait to be dealt with after that.

There was one thing, however, that she could do with the next twenty four hours or so. Hopefully, something constructive. She could go back to the one hope she had, the one thing that might be able to give her an idea of what came next, the only clues that she had to any of it.

She had until tomorrow, she had seven volumes of Irene Adler's Libris Veratitis, a mostly functional brain, and a laptop. No time like the present to do a little more work. 

Sleep, right now, as much as her body wanted it, was not an option. Even tired as she was, Kitty had no desire to ride the nightmare train again, and, besides, she needed something to keep her busy so she didn't go stir crazy. If anything could do it, those diaries could.

The elevator came to a jarring, jerking stop, doors seeming to wheeze their last, dying breath as they slowly opened, admitting her into the dim, grungy hallway. Her room was only a few feet away and it only took her a moment to reach the door. She slipped the key out of her pocket and finally managed to get it to turn in the rusty lock. Shoving the door open, she went inside, pushing it closed behind her and turning to slide the deadbolt home. Just in case.

With a sigh, she went back to the little table and sat down in front of the laptop, opening the cover and waiting for it to wake up from it's automatic "sleep". 

In the relative silence, her stomach gave a loud growl of protest, trying to remind her that she'd had neither dinner last night nor breakfast this morning, but she resolutely ignored it. She could eat later, when there was nothing else to do.

A few swift, sure movements of her fingers, and Kitty had called up the program she'd designed years before to work with the first volume of Destiny's diaries that she'd found, though, in actuality, it was volume three of the set. 

There didn't seem to be any particular order to the diary entries themselves. Though the volumes were numbered, each one could contain information on the past, present, and future. Any one page might speak of what would happen today, as well as what would happen a hundred years from now. The fact that there was no coherent, discernible, pattern to the information only made it more infuriating to work with the books. 

Curious, she called up parts of those initial entries. She hadn't looked at that particular information in quite a while and decided she might as well refresh her memory. Maybe there was something there pertaining to her present situation that she'd overlooked before.

The first passage that came up gave her pause, a wry smile curving her full lips.

_What Price, the Dream_

_When the Center does not hold?_

_Shall the Circle stay Unbroken?_

Kitty snorted, almost amused, but more disgusted. What price the Dream, indeed. She'd seen the price, paid it in blood, and the circle was hardly unbroken. Apt, for certain, but it hardly gave her any pertinent information.

With the tap of a few keys, another passage popped up.

_A Winter of Rebirth_

_Brings forth a Spring..._

_of Desolation???_

Again, vague, cryptic and hardly informative. 

Kitty scrolled quickly through several more passages, but didn't find anything that seemed to even remotely pertain to what was happening at present. In fact, most of the passages were general enough that they could have pertained to many different things at almost any time. 

Yes, the Diaries were just as confusing, just as cryptic, as they'd ever been.

_**Why on earth does everything have to always be so complicated? Just once, I'd love for someone to come up and say "Hey, Armageddon is coming tomorrow at 2:00 PM sharp in Boise, Idaho. Tell all your friends." **_

_**But no. What do I get? Weird, horrifying dreams of somebody else's life and information like "From the ashes of Despair, The rain of Renewal." Gee, thanks so much, Irene. How very nonsensical of you. Somewhere, God must be sitting back and laughing his ass off.**_

Though she knew it was hardly Irene Adler's fault that the diaries were so nearly useless, Kitty needed someone to blame at the moment, and Destiny had been elected. But, in truth, the woman who'd written the Libris Veratitis hadn't understood them any more than anyone else. Like Mystique, she'd nearly driven herself insane trying.

Giving up on the first diary, Kitty reached once again for the second one, glancing at the small pile of books stacked on the little table as she did so. 

There were still five more to look through after this one, and it had taken her days just to make what little progress she had. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she probably wouldn't ever get through them all. And there was still that problem of this strange language that looked so familiar, but whose identity and translation continued to elude her. It was so very frustrating.

It made her want to bang her head against the table repeatedly until she either came up with the answers she needed or passed out, but she settled for simply laying her forehead on the computer keyboard for a moment, trying to push down the nearly overwhelming sense of despair that was slowly trying to engulf her.

The task before her looked impossible, but Kitty tried to tell herself that she'd faced impossible before and won. Though, even inside her own head, she didn't sound very convincing.

She only partially succeeded in tamping it all down again and, when she looked up, even what little tiny speck of hope she still held seemed to vanish in a puff of smoke as her blood froze in her veins.

There, on the screen in front of her, was a passage from the first diary. A passage that she hadn't called up, but that chilled her to the bone.

_From the Sky_

_Steel strides ashore_

_All that Lives is Scoured Away_

_A Land made Barren evermore._

But it wasn't so much the words, as the accompanying sketch that had her blood running cold and her heart leaping into her throat.

It was a representation of a large building; tall, a modern skyscraper, a long spire atop it. It could have been any one of a dozen different buildings, in any one of a half-dozen, or more, cities. New York, Chicago, LA, San Francisco, Dallas, anywhere.

And, beside and slightly behind it, the depiction of what could only be the worlds largest Sentinel. 

It was crude, almost cartoonish, like no other Sentinel Kitty had ever seen. But there was absolutely no mistaking what it was, despite it's odd looks. She had seen enough of them in her life to know.

The monstrosity stood easily as tall as the skyscraper beside it, beams of energy stabbing from it's eyes onto the city below. And the city was burning, engulfed in flames, in pieces, as the killing machine destroyed everything within it's path.

Kitty studied the drawing carefully for a moment, then, with shaking hands, she reached for her hard copy of the Diary it came from, intending to find the entry, see if there was something else there that might give her more information, a location, an identifying landmark, anything.

Suddenly, her own problems seemed petty and worthless. Compared to this prediction, anything less than an extinction level event was of little consequence. 

There was a feeling of urgency boiling inside her. It had taken root the moment she'd seen the images on the screen. A feeling that this wasn't a prediction of some far off event, years or even decades in the future. The feeling was one of imminent danger.

Before she could do more than flip through the first few pages of the diary, however, there was a sharp rapping on her door. 

Sliding her chair back and cursing under her breath in a mixture of gutter Hebrew and Japanese, she started for the door, intending to give whoever, or whatever, was on the other side a none to gentle send off right back the way it came. This was a hell of a time for company. 

"Who is it?" she yelled out as she strode across the room, her mind on only one thing; the prediction and images from that diary, and nothing else. Caution went completely out the window. "And what the hell do you want?"

The male voice that spoke from the other side of the door, though, got even Kitty's attention.

"Katherine Pryde, Shadowcat of the X-Men, you are hereby summoned to the palace," Though the voice held a hint of hostility, it was firm and commanding. "on the orders of Lord Magneto."

* * *

Though he felt as if he'd only been asleep for a few minutes, it was early afternoon before Logan finally woke.

He knew it was only his imagination, a manifestation of his mental and emotional exhaustion from the stream of one-two punches that life had thrown him repeatedly over the last week, but the Canadian X-Man could have sworn he was beginning to feel every bit of his considerable age.

There were some things, he supposed, that even a healing factor couldn't take care of.

With a grunt, he flung back the covers he'd somehow become entangled in, climbed out of bed, and made his way into the hotel room's small bathroom, stepping directly into the tiny shower stall. He turned the cold water on full blast, letting it clear his head and bring him back to some semblance of wakefulness as he stood under the icy spray.

It only took him a few minutes to finish up, dry off, and begin getting dressed again. He was just slipping on his black t-shirt and pulling on his jeans when Kurt appeared in a cloud of sulfurous smoke and the customary soft "bamf" of air. 

"Logan, you are up. At last." Nightcrawler plopped down on his unslept on bed and watched his long time friend as he finished dressing. "You look tired, mein freund. I was hoping you would have good news for us. But, judging by your expression, I suppose not." 

There were lines around the feral X-Man's eyes that hadn't been there yesterday, and his face looked unusually haggard. The German mutant felt his spirits plummet as any hopes he'd held of receiving a little good news for a change crumbled to dust. Whatever Logan might have to tell them wasn't going to make any of them any happier.

In an uncharacteristically weary gesture of frustration, Logan ran one hand through his dark, unruly hair, exhaling heavily. When his dark eyes met Kurt's golden ones, his expression was set and extremely grim.

"I tell ya, Kurt, for th' first time in years, I feel wore out. I ain't never been in many situations that I actually thought were hopeless, but I'm afraid this just might be one. That it's Kit, that I can't think of **anything** to do that could get her outta this mess......" He paused, dropping his eyes, his hand jammed into his jeans pockets, as he seemed to study the faded pattern on the worn carpet. "I'm a fighter. A scrapper. It's all I know how ta do. But I can't fight this. Not physically. And I don't know any other way."

"Perhaps," Kurt began, very quietly, his own heart breaking just a little more at the underlying note of defeat in his old friends voice. "this is not a battle we can fight for her at all. Perhaps this is a fight she must win or lose on her own."

It nearly killed him to say it. No one wanted Kitty back, safe and well, any more than Kurt Wagner. He would gladly lay down his own life, if it would help her. But he didn't think it would. He wasn't sure what would.

The more he and Amanda worked, studied the information they had, what they knew, what they suspected, the more convinced he became that the only one who could fight this and stand any chance of winning was Kitty herself. But the question was, did she have the strength it would take to do it? 

Any other time, he would have said yes, but he had seen Illyana fight this same battle. And he had seen her lose, had watched helplessly as the darkness slowly claimed her. 

Kitty was strong, as strong as they came. So had Illyana been, and, in the end, she had lost. How could his Katzchen hope to hold out against such a force? At some point, the temptation of power would become too great for her to withstand. It was inevitable. They had all watched it happen more than once before, to more than one team mate.

"Maybe so. But I ain't ready to give up just yet. I can't. Not until I know, absolutely, that there's nothin' else we can do. I ain't willin' ta just let her go. Not without a hella'va fight." With that, Logan crossed to the door, calling back to Kurt over his shoulder. "C'mon, Elf. I'll tell you and 'Manda what I know, and, maybe, between th' three of us, we can come up with somethin' we can use."

* * *

For a long moment, Kitty stared at the door, eyes narrowed as if she could see through the faded paint and wood to what was on the other side, maybe set it on fire with nothing more than the heat of her gaze, as irritation washed over her. 

The prospect of being taken before Magneto didn't engender even the slightest amount of fear in her, as it might have some others. She'd known the man far too long, fought him far too often, for that. But it did really piss her off.

She should have known. She should have guessed that Erik would know she was here. He always made it a point of knowing everything that went on around him, wherever he was. Gennosha, simply because it was a country instead of a secrest base, would be no different. In fact, if Kitty had to guess, she'd say that he would be even more wary and alert than ever.

Especially now, with the world possibly standing poised on the brink of a genetic war.

But what the hell did he want with her? 

Soundlessly, she padded across the floor and looked through the the little spyhole set in the door at eye level. On the other side, she saw an average size man, brown hair, brown eyes, handsome enough, but nothing to get overly excited about, dressed in the generic red and purple uniform of the Acolytes. 

Her initial reaction was the urge to either ignore him outright, or to tell him, and Magneto, to go straight to hell. Do not pass GO, do not collect two hundred dollars. But, she knew that wouldn't do any good. If he actually did go away, which she doubted, he would only return with reinforcements.

In Genosha, what Lord Magneto wanted, Lord Magneto got.

With a sigh that was more annoyance at being interrupted by this unexpected turn of events than anything else, Kitty phased her arm through the door, grabbed a fistful of the unsuspecting Acolyte's maroon red shirt front, jerked him into the room and slammed him up against the nearest wall, hearing the air exit his lungs in a soft, astonished, whoosh.

Obviously, the man wasn't as all prepared for the possibility of this type of reaction from her in answer to his announcement and Kitty watched in almost amusement, and with a definite sense of malicious satisfaction, as his eyes got very wide and his mouth formed a little O of surprise. 

Absently, it crossed her mind to wonder if this particular Acolyte might have incurred Magneto's wrath in some way and been sent to try and fetch Kitty as his punishment. After all, Erik would have known she wouldn't just come along quietly.

In a one swift move, Kitty jammed her forearm against his throat, not tight enough to choke him but just tight enough to give her the leverage she needed to keep him pinned against the wall. Getting right in his face, almost nose to nose, she literal snarled at him.

"Give me one good reason not to break you in half." 

As the man only stared at her in mute horror, making little mewling, choking noises as he seemed to be trying to sink into the wall behind him, Kitty finally took a good look at her appointed Acolyte. And was slightly taken aback by what she saw.

He couldn't be more than a year or two older than she was, if that, lean of build and actually rather timid looking. Definitely not one of Erik's personal guard. Too small framed, not nearly aggressive enough by half, and much too easily taken by surprise. It was almost insulting.

"If you're all Magneto sent here to arrest me, then you are in deep shit, bub." She enunciated the words very carefully, as if speaking to a slightly retarded child. Still, she wasn't sure he understood her. He just kept staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes, his mouth still hanging slightly open.

The silence stretched on as the startled man's mouth began to work soundlessly, reminding her of a goldfish she'd had once, before she joined the X-Men. It was not a flattering comparison.

Really, this was ridiculous. If Erik was going to send her an Acolyte to pound on, the least he could do was give her someone who would make an effort, at least a **token** effort, to fight back. This guy was just pathetic. Kitty was almost starting to feel sorry for him. Almost.

Finally, the intimidated young Acolyte managed to choke out a few words, though they were a long time in coming, and not very understandable when they arrived. "N-No..I mean...Y-Yes...well...Miss....uh..."

_**Oh, good. Now he's babbling.**_

Heaving a deep sigh, Kitty took pity on the poor man and let him go, stepping back to give him some breathing room. Unless he was one hell of an actor, this one wouldn't give her any trouble. He was barely coherent and shaking like a leaf in his purple boots.

Kitty watched him for a moment, hands fisted on her hips, as her stammering visitor struggled to recall his grasp of the English language, without any immediate success. 

_**Jeez, Erik. This is pitiful. Hope this one isn't an example of your average Acolyte these days.**_

"Look," Kitty began in a slightly milder, less intimidating tone than before. "take a deep breath, count to ten, and try again."

Nodding, the young man took a moment to collect himself, though any dignity he'd arrived with had long since departed and he seemed resigned to that fact. It took him a few moments to return to some semblance of normal, but he finally did and, when he spoke this time, Kitty actually understood what he said.

"You are Katherine Pryde? Shadowcat?" he asked tentatively, inwardly bracing himself for another attack by this small, but strangely psychotic, woman. He breathed a sigh of relief when Kitty simply nodded, staying where she was.

"Yep. That's me. Want to tell me what this is about?"

"Lord Magneto wishes to speak with you on a matter of great importance and requests your presence at the palace at your earliest convenience." He managed to recover enough of his dignity to say it with an appropriate air of formality.

Again, Kitty's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she watched the young man, considering his words. It could be a trick. Erik could be baiting her, intending to throw her into a cell, use her as some kind of icon to rail against Charles Xavier and his vaunted dream. It wouldn't be the first time.

But, if that's all he wanted her for, he could have sent a squad of guards, and probably would have. He'd know this poor, pitiful excuse for a solider, still standing braced against her hotel room wall as if afraid to move, wouldn't even cause her to break a sweat as she kicked his butt out into Magda Square.

"You're not a soldier, are you?" Kitty asked him in an almost gentle tone of voice, though she had an idea she already knew what his answer would be. No army on earth, not even a desperate one, would have this man as a fighting soldier.

"No." he replied, somewhat taken aback at the question. "I'm just a courier, a page. Like a messenger."

Kitty winced inwardly. **_Oops_**. 

"Then, I think I owe you an apology. I just automatically assumed that you were one of Magneto's guards. If I'd known you weren't, I would never have ambushed you like I did."

"Ummm...It's ok." He said it almost like a question as the shaken Acolyte blinked at her, unsure whether or not to trust this sudden change of attitude. "I suppose I should have made myself more clear."

"What does he want with me?" Kitty asked, but the young man only shook his head, still eyeing her with a decidedly nervous expression.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't know. I was simply sent here to extend his invitation and escort you to the Presidential Palace."

Kitty nodded, her face adopting a considering expression as she turned toward her dresser. "Well, I guess we'd better not keep him waiting, then. Do I have time for a quick change of clothes?"

Her escort nodded warily, still keeping a close eye on her, in case she came at him again, obviously half convinced that she was insane. "Of course. I'll wait for you out in the hall. Take your time."

As the young man left, rather quickly, Kitty pulled open the battered dresser drawer, taking out her uniform and katanas. If she was going to the palace, she might as well dress for the occasion.

And she couldn't help but wonder, as she changed, what on earth Erik Lensherr was up to now. 

* * *

Kurt, Amanda, and Logan sat around the little, scarred, rickety table, the remains of their picked over lunch, of which they had all eaten very little, spread around them at random.

They'd spent the last couple of hours exchanging stories and information. Logan had filled his two companions in on his encounter with Kitty the night before, leading to a general disappearance of what little morale, and hope, any of them had left. Still, none of them were ready to throw in the towel.

Now, Amanda and Kurt were filling him in on what information they had gathered, as well as their best guess theories. Their conclusions didn't really seem any more promising than Logan's experiences the previous night had been and they were a hell of a lot more confusing, which was saying a lot.

"Now, let me see if I get this straight," Logan looked from Amanda to Kurt, trying to process the complicated, convoluted theories they'd just thrown at him when he'd had all of five hours sleep in the last forty eight hours. "yer tellin' me that Kitty, Illyana, and Rachel are all somehow connected to Irene Adler's diaries, the Soulsword, and the Phoenix? And that all of 'em are mixed up together fer some purpose or reason we don't have the first clue about?" 

When they both nodded as if he'd just grasped the secrets of the universe, Logan had the sudden urge to poke his eyes out with his own claws. "What am I missin' here? 'Cause I just don't see th' connection."

Across the table, Amanda took a deep breath and fought down the inclination to snap at him. 

They were all operating on little to no sleep - not to mention the worry, guilt, and an almost panicked sense of urgency that sat on their shoulders like vultures, waiting for them to fail, waiting for the weakness that would allow them to pounce and send them all into full blown despair - and it was making them irritable, edgy, and impatient. 

The last thing they needed right now was give in to it and start fighting amongst themselves. 

The sorceress just knew, she could feel it in her bones, that they were getting close to solving this thing. Or, at least, a lot closer than they had been. They couldn't afford to screw it all up at this juncture. Not if Kitty was to have any chance at all.

Once again, she pulled up her screen of sorted information, looking over it carefully to make sure she was correct in what she was going to say. Satisfied that she was, she launched back into her theory from the beginning.

"We're not positive of the exact connections either, Logan. But the one thing we are **absolutely** positive of is that there is, indeed, a connection. There's too many common threads weaving those three particular girls together, many of them over different timelines and dimensions, with Kitty as the central figure in all of them." 

Taking a deep breath, Amanda began to count them off one by one. "Kate Rasputin who was a mother figure to Rachel in the timeline she was from. The Cat who raised Illyana in Limbo. The Shadowcat from Nate Grey's timeline that co-led the mission to rescue that timeline's Illyana from Apocalypse."

"The fact that the Phoenix force was instrumental in securing Kitty for the X-Men and then later bonded with Rachel, who, along with Illyana, was one of Kitty's best friends. The way that Rachel seemed to have no problem reading Kitty's mind, picking up her thoughts at random, when no other telepath, including Professor Xavier, Cable, or Jean Grey, seem to be able to do it unless Kitty consciously allows them to."

"And," Kurt put in. "don't forget, of course, Kitty's bond with the Soulsword. The way that Rachel was able to control the Soulsword when Doom tried to destroy Limbo, when she should not have even been able to touch it. Then there is Kitty's connection with Irene Adler and the Books of Truth, as well as Illyana's connection with those same books. The fact that Illyana couldn't physically injure any human being, except Kitty, with the Soulsword. And, of course, the whole verdammt Inferno debacle."

"Wait." Amanda shot him a quizzical look. "What about Inferno? I don't remember you mentioning anything about that."

"I could have sworn we discussed that." Kurt adopted a thoughtful look, resting his chin on his steepled hands as he tried to remember the million and one things they'd went over during the night. "Gott, maybe we did not get to it before I became incoherent. I honestly do not know a this point."

"No," Her brow creased in concentration, she scrolled down her screen of compiled information, looking for any references to Inferno. "I don't see anything, Fuzzy. Guess we missed that part."

"Not a surprise, Liebe, considering we were both sleepworking by the time we stopped." Rubbing a hand across his still tired eyes, Kurt continued. "There was not really all that much to tell. Just as everyone else got pulled into it, so did Excalibur. Rachel went to help baby Nate, and we followed Rachel. And, of course, Illyana and the other X-Men were there, though we didn't know that at the time, since we still believed them to be very **dead**."

Turning his head slightly, Nightcrawler smirked at Logan, who rolled his eyes in turn. "Yeah, Yeah, Elf. Damn, would ya get over that already. That was eight years ago. Water under the bridge."

"There may have been **something** under the bridge, mein freund, but it was **not** water." was Nightcrawler's prompt retort.

Shaking her head in a mix between exasperation and amusement at the two men - who acted more like little boys when they were together for any length of time - Amanda smiled despite herself. Between those two, there was never a dull moment. 

"All right, boys. Try to stay on topic." The former stewardess turned to her erstwhile boyfriend, waiting for his attention to shift in her direction. "Are you saying that Rachel, Kitty, and Illyana were all in New York, during the Inferno?"

"Ja." Kurt nodded. "But all in different places. In fact, we did not all reconnect until it was all over. By then, Illyana had already reverted to her younger self."

"Strange." was Amanda's only comment, as her brow furrowed once again in either concentration or puzzlement, though Kurt wasn't sure which.

"Whadda ya mean, 'Manda? Is that important?" Logan was watching the young sorceress closely as she worked through the information before her. 

He didn't normally put much store in all this mystical bullshit, but right now, it looked like the only hope they had of helping Kitty. And, besides Kitty and Illyana, there wasn't anyone else who had any experience with the Soulsword.

"I don't know, Logan." Amanda was quickly typing in this new information, adding it to her growing list of facts and data. "Maybe. Maybe not. But, it seems to fit into my theory."

"'Manda, is there any way possible," Logan asked, almost in desperation. "that ya can explain this theory of yers in plain, simple English? So I might have a chance of understandin' what th' hell it is?"

She was hit with the almost overwhelming urge to laugh at the desperate, pleading look on the feral Canadian's face and the former stewardess realized that she was becoming rather punchy. They were all going to have to get some rest soon if they intended to keep functioning.

"I'll try, but I make no guarantees. Especially on two hours of sleep." Pulling out a clean sheet of stationery, Amanda began to sketch out her improvised chart again as Kurt watched, a sardonic look plastered on his face.

"Ah, we are again awed by the amazing, stick figure sketches."

"Shut up, Fuzzy." Amanda never missed a beat as she launched straight into her explanation, drawing all the time. 

"Basically, my theory is that, for a reason we don't yet know, Kitty, Rachel, and Illyana are all connected to one another and to the Phoenix force, the Books of Truth, and the Soulsword, with Kitty seeming to be the central, catalyzing, figure in the whole thing. It's as if each girl belongs to a different object, they just don't, for some reason, know which one. And, because they're all so interconnected, each girl has an affinity for all the objects. So, like trial and error, through the years, the different objects have been moving back and forth, trying to find their match..."

"Yer losin' me again, 'Manda. And I asked fer it in English." Logan stated flatly, stopping her in mid lecture as she turned to glare at him in irritation. 

"Arrgghh!" Amanda growled in frustration, crumbling the paper tightly in her clenched fists, causing the corners of the feral Canadian's mouth to twitch slightly as his dark, bushy eyebrows shot up. 

The lovely sorceress was so annoyed, both with this whole situation and trying to make sense of this tangled, mixed up, jumble of information, that she was ready to either pull out her hair or lunge across the table and throttle Logan. 

She was trying to explain the knowledge gained by a lifetime spent studying the mystical arts to two complete neophytes, in a very limited amount of time, using small words and soundbites. It was driving her totally insane. 

Taking a deep breath, she staunchly resisted the urge to try and remove Wolverine's adamantium from his skeletal system with a pen knife, and reminded herself that it wasn't his fault. He was not a magically inclined individual. She would just have to be patient.

"Ok. Let's try it this way. Here," She pulled out another piece of paper, drawing three stick figures across the top, lining them up in a row, side by side. "we have Rachel, Illyana, and Kitty. Are you with me so far?" 

Logan nodded and she continued, drawing another three figures below the first ones, a book, a sword, and what Logan thought, at first, might be a chicken, but soon realized was probably supposed to be the Phoenix. 

"Good. Now, we also have the Soulsword, the Books of Truth, and the Phoenix." She shot Logan another look from under her dark lashes. "Got that?" 

He smirked at her this time as he again nodded. "Each of these objects, or forces, which we can safely label as at least somewhat mystical in nature, belongs to one of these three women. You could say that they were bonded to them..."

"Why?" 

At the older mutant's question, Amanda's head shot up, eyes flaring hotly, ready to rip his head off and see if his damned healing factor could grow it back if he was trying to make jokes when she was barely hanging onto her temper, and her sanity, by a slim thread.

She quickly saw that he wasn't, however, and gave him the only answer she had. "I don't know. For some purpose we aren't aware of yet. But, for right now, let's just say that they are, ok?"

"Ok."

Kurt, sitting between the two, was watching the by-play and trying his very best not to fall on the floor and burst into hysterical laughter, knowing that, if he did, it would probably mean his death at his girlfriend's hands.

If they all three made it another two days together, in these confined quarters, and under the present circumstances, without killing one another, he would be amazed.

"Where was I?" Amanda was looking blankly at what she'd been doodling, having completely lost her train of thought and unable to coax it back.

"Three mystical objects bonded to the three girls." Kurt supplied helpfully, fighting the smile trying to curve his mouth. Thankfully, neither Amanda or Logan noticed.

"Oh, yeah. Each object, or force, or avatar, whatever you want to call them, is meant to be wielded by specific person." She saw Logan open his mouth again, and she held up her hand, indicating for him to stay silent. "**Again**, for reason's we aren't aware of yet." She watched him until he nodded again, before restarting. "Only, none of them seem aware of what belongs to who. So, you end up with these avatars going to the wrong people, who can't fully control them."

"Wait." Logan stopped her again and Amanda sighed heavily, sagging wearily in her chair. "Yer sayin' that the Soulsword didn't belong to Illyana? That it belongs to Kitty , instead?"

"From what we've learned, from what we know and have seen first hand, that would seem to be the case. It would also explain," Amanda continued, seeing that Logan finally seemed to be following along with her. "why it came to Kitty each time something happened to Illyana, and would also, at least partially, explain most of the other anomalies where Kitty, Illyana, and the Soulsword were concerned. This theory, which is all that it is right now, would go a long way, as well, toward explaining why Jean Grey was unable to interact with the Phoenix force without serious repercussions, yet Rachel seemed to manage it with no problems."

"I suppose that does make sense." Kurt offered thoughtfully, turning the theory over in his mind, considering it from several different angles, as he'd been doing for hours on end. "Except that it does not explain why Kitty cannot wield the Soulsword any more successfully than Illyana could. Also, that leaves the Books of Truth with Illyana and, other than Inferno and maybe another incident or two, I do not know of any particular attraction, or connection, that she had with the diaries."

Amanda nodded. He had a valid point. One she'd thought of long and hard herself. But she also thought she might have the answer for that as well, but she needed more time to work on it. Time they may not have.

"The problem there is, we've only had a chance to really look at one Book, out of a total of thirteen. We have no idea what the others may say. I wish we'd have thought to try and find the five Mystique gave Charles before we left Westchester. They could have been invaluable. We do know that Illyana did have contact with both Irene Adler as well as the diaries. But, of all three girls, we know the least about Illyana's real background - as far as her time in Limbo with Belasco, Cat, and Storm - than any of the three."

"And," she continued, "I'm still convinced that the key to solving the mystery of why Kitty and Illyana couldn't safely wield the sword, when I could, may still lie with this mysterious Bloodstone Amulet. It's the only thread common to the two of them, but not to me." Exhaling heavily, she leaned back in her chair. "I really, really wish I had some information on the amulet. I don't even know what it looks like..."

"Well, hell, 'Manda. I can help ya with that. I got a damned good look at it last night."

Amanda sat up with a jerk, staring at him hard. "Logan! Why didn't you mention this before?" 

Her sharp demand had Logan's eyebrows shooting up again as he answered her with slow deliberation. "Well, darlin', I sorta had other things on my mind than describin' Kit's choice in jewelry and fashion accessories."

With a tired chuckle, Amanda nodded, realizing she was being rather irritating and that Logan was doing his best to remain patient. "Sorry. I know you did. I didn't quite mean that like it came out. Can you tell me what it looked like, as much detail as you can? Maybe that'll help me identify it."

"I can do better'n that. If ya'll gimme a piece of paper, I'll draw ya a picture." 

Surprised, Amanda slid him a blank sheet of paper and Logan spent the next several minutes sketching out a very passable representation of the amulet in rather intricate detail. 

He was so intent on his task, that he didn't notice Amanda's expression slowly move from curious interest, to intent consideration, and finally, into a full blown scowl. 

But, when he was done, turning the sheet of paper around and sliding it back in front of her, neither he nor Kurt missed the way she suddenly blanched, all the blood seeming to drain from her face in an instant, leaving her deathly pale, her wide blue eyes standing out in sharp contrast to her pallor.

"Oh...my...God." Amanda studied the drawing, the round amulet, attached to a thick link chain, the representation of a set of scales embossed on the front, etched lines, like rays of light, seeming to emanate from all around them, and she felt her heart go stock, dead still inside her chest.

The amulet, she knew, would be gold, as would the chain. It would open like a pocket watch and was about the same size. Inside would be a silver pentagram, surrounded by ancient symbols. And at each point of the pentagram would be insets for stones. Five in all.

"Amanda? Liebe?" Disturbed by her sudden pallor, her unnatural stillness as she studied the drawing, Kurt placed his hand lightly on her arm, trying to draw her attention, afraid she was about to pass out, but his words went unheeded. She simply continued to stare at the sketch before her, sick dread washing over her in a thick, suffocating wave.

"How many stones did you say were in place in this amulet?" Her voice was oddly calm and even, though quieter than normal, considering the turmoil raging inside her. 

They were in serious trouble. Kitty most of all. 

"Three, if I remember right." Logan supplied, watching her closely. He could smell the fear, almost panic, rolling off of her in waves and he wondered what the hell that amulet could be that it had her so scared so fast. "'Manda, you know what it is, don't ya?"

"Oh, yes." She stated evenly. Finally, she lifted her face from the drawing, and both he and Kurt were happy to see some of the color return to her face. But she was still obviously terrified and her reaction was making them edgy as well. "It's known as the Beatrice Amulet. There's a very long story behind it, and we don't have time to go into it right now. We have to find Kitty and we have to get this amulet away from her, destroy it if we can. We've got to start looking. Now."

Amanda shoved her chair back from the table and stood as Kurt looked on, somewhat stunned and uncomprehending, his own nerves on edge. He sensed an urgency about her that he'd seldom seen and he knew she wouldn't be this agitated if things were not very serious, but the import of her words had gone completely over his head.

Not so with Logan as he watched her as well, his senses picking up even more than Nightcrawlers. There was urgency, fear, almost an edge of hysteria, coming off the normally unflappable sorceress that set his own instincts on edge. It told him all he needed to know for the moment.

If things were that serious, he knew of only one course of action to take, only one option that gave them the possibility of finding Kitty as quickly as it seemed they needed to. It took him less than a second to make his decision.

"All right. If it's that important, if it'll help Kit, then let's get suited up."

When Amanda's gaze met his, she saw the glint of steely determination there that she found familiar and rather comforting, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. Wolverine had a plan. If she hadn't been so terrified, she would have smiled. 

Kurt however, only appeared confused, incomprehension written plainly on his face. "But, I thought you wanted to keep this low profile, Logan. We cannot go traipsing around Genosha in costume. Magneto would be on us in a second if he knew we were here."

Logan smiled then, humorlessly, as he regarded his friend. "Pal, Mags knew we were here no more'n ten minutes after we stepped foot on Genosha. He ain't stupid. An', besides, he won't have to send nobody after us."

"And why is that?" 

"'Cause we're goin' ta him."

* * *

From behind the red tinted lenses of her sunglasses, Kitty studied the milling crowd gathered in Magda Square. There must have been, literally, thousands of people crammed hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, into the commons, waiting for Magneto to make his daily appearance. 

Men, women, teenagers, and children; large and tall, young and old; from all races and religions, from every cross section of humanity in Genosha and around the world, many of them dressed in the red and purple uniform of the Genoshan military, they waited with baited breath for their leader, their muted conversations filling the air with a soft, humming sound that was like nothing so much as a hive of busily working bees. 

Off to one side, across the commons, stood a large, boisterous group of children, a school group, Kitty would guess. Probably on a field trip, here to see the great man himself. Something they could tell their grandchildren about. How, once, when they were young, they beheld the great Magneto. Their messiah. Their liberator.

It was easy for her to understand how these people might feel that way. Erik Magnus Lensherr was an intelligent, charismatic man who could rally people to his side with the simplest of words, the smallest of actions.

After the slavery, the poverty, the horrors of war, that the mutants of Genosha had endured, he would, indeed, seem like a savior. 

Magneto had come in and done what no one had thought possible in the devastated, war ravaged country, torn asunder by the never ending struggle between the mutant population and the human population that had enslaved them for so long. 

He had picked the tortured land up, brushed it off, kicked out nearly all the baseline humans, and returned it to at least a semblance of it's former glory. From the ashes of slavery, he had forged a haven for mutant kind.

It was too bad that he was now, most likely, about to lead them directly into a genetic war the likes of which the world had never seen. Kitty was very afraid that he had ended the war in Genosha only to take it global. 

The short walk from her motel to the palace had given her a few minutes to ponder what Erik might have up his sleeve as far as she was concerned, why he would be calling her here, if not to arrest her, but Kitty hadn't really been able to come up with anything that made sense.

Of all the X-Men, Kitty and Peter were the only ones left who would still be considered on anything near cordial terms with Magneto. He had saved both their lives after they were severely injured during the Morelock Massacre, nearly selling his soul to Dr. Doom to keep Kitty from discorporating completely and using the last bit of strength he had to try and heal Peter's metal changform. He had gone with her to a reunion of Holocaust victims to help her locate information on the fate of her great aunt Chava, who'd died in Auschwitz. And, of course, Peter had spent over a year as one of his Acolytes.

Though they had fought on opposite sides in the past, and would probably do so in the future – possibly the near future – they had also fought on the same side for a time. Kitty knew the man, the actual person, inside the persona of one of the worlds most powerful mutants. 

Erik Lensherr was not an evil man. He was simply a disillusioned, frightened man with a great deal of power, weary of watching mutant kind endure the persecution, head toward the same nightmare, that had taken his family during the Holocaust. 

If he had wanted her as a prisoner, if he was planning a hostile act toward her personally, she would have known it immediately. For all his misguided intentions, he was a straightforward enemy. 

So, what did he want with her, then? Kitty couldn't even guess.

Having made their way through the crowded square, Shadowcat and her escort, whose name she still didn't know and who was making a point of keeping a reasonably safe distance between them, climbed the wide, white, marble steps of the palace to the glassfront doors set into the massive, gray granite structure. 

To Kitty, the design of Genosha's Presidential Palace had always seemed reminiscent of the Empire State building, tall and slender, with a slightly Art Deco appearance, a long spire reaching skyward from it's apex. It was a classically elegant design that suited Magneto's personality. 

As they approached the soldiers standing guard at the entrance, the young X-woman was fully expecting to be challenged, doubting that they would allow her into Magneto's presence armed with her katanas, regardless of the fact that he was the master of magnetism. But, to her surprise, the two guards simply opened the doors for them and stepped aside, not even glancing twice at her weapons. 

Her escort walked her to the elevators, saw her inside, and punched a code into the control panel's keypad. Then, he stepped out, leaving her to continue alone with only a nod of farewell and an immense look of relief. 

Pushing her sunglasses to rest on top of her head, Kitty waited patiently as the elevator made it's smooth journey upward. She was expecting it to stop on the tenth floor, where the so called "Throne Room" was located, the place where most audiences with Genosha's ruler took place. 

However, she was again surprised when it continued on past that floor, as well as thirty or so more, taking her straight to the penthouse. Magneto's private quarters.

Immediately upon the elevator coming to a stop, the door sliding quietly open, she was met by a tall, heavily muscled man dressed in the more formal and ornate uniform of Magneto's private guard. 

"If you will follow me please." The Acolyte didn't bother to wait for her answer before turning and striding down the hall, trusting that she would follow obediently, his long, red cape trailing after him. 

With a shrug, Kitty fell into step behind him as he led her toward a set of ornately carved mahogany doors a short distance down the hall. Opening the right-hand most door, he motioned for her to enter and she stepped cautiously into what was, obviously, a private sitting room.

Kitty turned back to him questioningly, seeing immediately that she was alone, but, before she could say anything, the guard simply announced, "Lord Magneto will be with you momentarily," shut the door quietly as he backed out, and was gone. 

With nothing else to do at the moment, she took the opportunity to glance around the room, taking in the comfortable looking, light brown leather sofa, the thick beige carpet, the neutral colored walls, mahogany occasional tables, and the artwork scattered along the walls. 

It could have been a typical sitting room in any apartment or home nearly anywhere. There was nothing here to indicate that the owner was anything but an ordinary man. Everything was surprisingly, refreshingly, normal. 

How deceiving appearances could be sometimes.

Walking to the wide front window that occupied one entire wall of the spacious room, Kitty stood, looking down onto Magda Square far, far below. 

From this vantage point, she could see the huge collection of assembled humanity in it's entirety. Strangely enough, the crowd actually looked larger from up here than it had when she was down there in it. 

All those people. An entire army at his command, for good or ill. Would the X-Men end up fighting these people, their own kind, before it was all over? Sadly, Kitty was afraid she knew the answer to that question all too well. And she wondered if she was looking at the army of the apocalypse.

Had Raven Darkholme sacrificed her life to cure Legacy, only to give Magneto the means to destroy the entire world as they all knew it? Was this the prediction the shape shifter had seen in Destiny's diaries? Was this the pale horse?

"And I looked; and beheld a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death...and Hell followed with him...." It came out as a soft whisper, the verse popping into her mind unbidden as she stared down at the army of mutants on the ground below. 

From behind her, a deep voice picked up where she had left off.

"And Power was given to them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth. Revelations, 6:8."

Kitty looked up, unsurprised, catching his image in the glass as their eyes met in his reflection. "Hello, Erik."

"Hello, Katherine. You look well." 

Dropping her eyes, Kitty resumed her avid study of the milling throng. "Looks can be deceiving."

She felt two firm hands drop onto her shoulders as he stepped up close behind her, his own eyes following hers to the gathering far beneath their feet. "You sound troubled, child. And I see you have come dressed for battle. Are you so distrustful of my intentions?"

With a sigh, Kitty let herself relax, unaware, until that moment, how tightly she'd been holding herself, how tense she'd been. Despite her conscious conviction that he'd meant her no harm in bringing her here, habit had forced her to prepare for a fight. It was her training, and her nature.

"Just force of habit, I suppose," she replied, looking again to the reflection of the face belonging to the man who was the X-Men's greatest enemy. And who had, once upon a time, been their greatest friend. 

He looked so harmless, standing there in his tan slacks and light blue knit shirt, wavy white hair combed back from his face, and his light blue eyes shining with intelligence. Looking as he did right now, no one would ever guess the power that he held. He could easily have been anyone's father, grandfather, uncle; just another normal man, similar to any other. Only this man was anything but normal.

Here was one of the most powerful mutants on the planet, Omega class, able to manipulate matter on a molecular level as naturally as other people drew breath. A walking, talking force of nature. Wielding power beyond most people's imagining. The top predator in the food chain. And he knew it.

Magneto looked her over somewhat curiously in turn, taking in her costume, so unlike anything she'd ever worn before, the twin katanas resting in their scabbards on her back, the thick spill of chestnut hair down nearly to her waist, and her expressive, golden eyes that seemed so troubled. 

He knew the look, the feeling, well. It had been his own companion for far too long. And he wondered what secrets, what sorrow, she was holding within herself.

"Yes, old habits do die hard I'm afraid." he agreed with a nod, and a slight curving of he corners of his mouth, as his eyes dropped briefly back to the crowd below. 

The double meaning of his statement - that they weren't speaking only of their propensity to look at everything as a battle, but also of his almost instinctive need to lead, to gather followers and try to bring what he considered his people out of persecution, whatever the cost. And of the X-Mens just as strong need to stop him. - wasn't lost on Kitty. 

The two mutants eyed one another for a moment, each taking the measure of the other and finding themselves evenly matched in determination, intelligence, and strength of will. Inside him, she knew, was a good, well meaning heart, but it was his head that often got him into trouble.

All at once, Erik Lensherr smiled, transforming his face from stern to open and approachable in an instant, effectively dispelling any lingering tension in the room. "So, tell me Katherine, have you escaped the X-Men finally? Come to join me at last, perhaps?"

They both knew he was teasing her now and Kitty laughed lightly. "You never give up, do you? Wasn't getting your hands on Peter for a while enough for you?"

"I will not be happy until I have converted every one of Charles Xavier's students to my cause. You should know that by now." he returned, still smiling broadly. "How is Peter? It's been quite a while since I've seen either of you." 

He asked the question conversationally and was surprised by the obvious distress that it seemed to cause his young guest. There was no missing the shadow that passed briefly across her face as her smile faded, pain flashing in her eyes for a moment, sharp and bright. 

"He's fine. Or, at least, he was when I left a few days ago." Her gaze went to the sky, seeming so close now that she could reach out and touch it, as she fought the tears that were suddenly burning behind her eyes. 

She'd done everything she could to think of Peter as little as possible these last few days, for exactly this reason. If she did, the pain was so sharp, so huge, that she could barely function. If she gave in to it, it would destroy her long before the Soulsword ever could.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you." Magneto apologized sincerely, his voice soft. "Have there been problems between you?"

The genuine concern in his voice touched her and Kitty wished, not for the first time, that they didn't have to so often be enemies. He was not a hard man. Not really, though he often seemed that way out of necessity. During the time he'd been the headmaster at Xaviers, he'd been much more concerned with the welfare of his students, and his teams, than the Professor ever had. 

And Kitty would always be grateful to him, not only for her own life and for Peters, but for his concern for Illyana and his efforts to help her control her growing darkness, something Professor Xavier had never really bothered with. He'd treated them as human beings, as individuals, instead of simply soldiers. Erik had always seen the people, the children, where Charles tended to simply see the abilities, the the mutants, the warriors. 

What a force he could have been for good, if he'd only put his mind to it.

"Not exactly." Kitty finally replied, her voice holding a note of defeat that he could never recall hearing from her before. "I'd really rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you."

"Of course." He quickly changed the subject, having no wish to distress her further. He knew Kitty well enough to know that, if she didn't want to talk about it, there would be no prying it out of her and this was apparently a subject that upset her deeply. "Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink perhaps?"

"No. I'm fine, but thank you." Taking a deep breath, Kitty turned around, tilting her face up as she studied him seriously for a moment before she spoke, hoping she wasn't about to start a fight that she didn't really want. "What are you trying to do here, Erik?" 

When he didn't answer her, only met her gaze levelly with his own, Kitty sighed in weary resignation, knowing she was probably wasting her breath. "You're only going to get them all killed, you know, along with yourself. And, in the end, it'll only make things worse for the rest of us left behind."

This time, it was Magneto who sighed in resignation as his face took on a far away look and a great sadness seemed to settle over him like a cloak. 

"What choice am I left with, Katherine? You've been in this fight since you were little more than a child. It was obscene that you should have ever been put in such a position at such a young age, or at all, but Charles had no choice. Just as I have no choice. Everything else has been tried, over and over again, only to fail. I fear we are at the point where it is us or them. And they are the ones who have put us here."

"Do you really believe you can change anything by declaring war on the world?" Kitty laid her hands on his upper arms, leaning toward him as she spoke earnestly, urgently. "If you ride that pale horse, we both know the hell that will follow. All they're waiting for is an excuse." 

"Be that as it may, I honestly feel I have no choice. Genosha is not large enough to hold the entire mutant population of the world, nor should it have to. It is our world as much as theirs, and we have a right to live in it without fear of being slaughtered on the street simply because we exist."

Magneto spoke with conviction, but also with a kind of reluctant acceptance. In the position the world was currently in, mutants on one side, baseline humans on the other, there was no right answer. Battle lines were being drawn every day and it was quickly coming down to a simple matter of survival. They could not share the planet in peace, so one of them had to go.

Erik Lensherr was determined that it not be mutant kind. He would fight until his dying breath to prevent this holocaust, as he had not been able to prevent the Holocaust that had claimed his entire family.

"I know things are bad. I know they look hopeless. But there has to be a better way than a war that will, in all probability, not leave any of us alive." Kitty replied, knowing she was fighting a losing battle, but unwilling to give up until she'd at least tried to make him see one last time. "You're a powerful man, a wealthy man, with an entire country at your disposal. There's gotta be a better use for all that than war, destruction, and death. Haven't we had enough of that already? There has to be something better." 

As she had been earlier, Magneto was now staring over her head, at the clear blue sky, white clouds floating by like puffs of cotton caught in a gentle breeze. 

But he wasn't seeing the view. Kitty understood that. He was looking back at some atrocity from his past, one of the many that haunted him night and day. Though, whether it was one he had perpetrated or one that had been perpetrated upon him, she didn't know.

"Would that there were." he replied at length. "Would that there were." 

His quiet words had her hanging her head as she realized that what was coming was inevitable. She couldn't stop it and he wouldn't. "Then, may God have mercy on us all."

As silence settled over them, Kitty turned once again toward the large front window, looking out at the clear, cloudless day, the sunlight streaming down, and thought what a strange feeling it was to see such a lovely, nearly perfect picture, and know that the world sat on the brink of disaster, waiting only on the man behind her to cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war. 

It was a lot of power, a lot of responsibility, and, ultimately, a lot of guilt, whichever way it ended, for one man to bear. 

"Enough of this." Magneto announced at length, shaking himself out of his reverie and giving her shoulders a light squeeze, making Kitty turn her attention back to the older mutant. "I did not call you here to talk of war, of the world's mutant/human relations crisis, or any of the million other problems we are forced to deal with each day."

Kitty allowed herself a small smile at the sudden change of mood and played along with him. "Then what did you bring me here for? I'm pretty sure it wasn't my pleasant company and charming personality"

"Because," he replied with a smile of his own, turning her around to face him again and looking down at her with what she could only call a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I believe I have something that belongs to you."

"I don't think so." Kitty answered slowly, trying to think what he could be talking about. She wasn't missing anything. Not that she knew of, anyway. And, even if she was, she couldn't imagine how Magneto could have gotten hold of it. "If I am, I can't imagine what it is."

"All the same, I'm sure it's yours." He told her firmly as his next comment left her even more confused. "I will be most glad to return it to you, as well. I'm afraid it's beginning to give me a bit of trouble."

Kitty looked at him askance as he led her to the door of an adjoining room and stepped back, motioning for her to open the door. "If you wouldn't mind? I'm afraid my presence is none too welcome."

Now, Kitty was positively scrutinizing him, unable to guess what he might be up to, but he only continued to smile at her in that same strange, almost mischievous, way. 

"Ok. Whatever you want, I guess." Carefully, having no idea what might be waiting for her on the other side, Kitty turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open, peering into the dim, apparently empty, room. 

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust from the bright light of the sitting room, to the almost twilight of the bedroom, but when they finally did, her knees nearly buckled and she had to hold onto the door frame to keep from hitting the floor.

There on a large, ornately carved bed, in the middle of a pile of what, judging by their color and material, could only be some of Magneto's costumes, sat someone that she'd thought never to set eyes on again.

"Oh, my God.....Lockheed?" 

She was frozen in place, one hand covering her mouth, her other hand clutching at the wood of the door frame, hardly daring to breath as she stared at the little, purple lump sleeping soundly in the middle of the nest of clothing. Sleeping. Breathing. Not dead. **Alive.**

Kitty tried to move forward then, but her legs wouldn't hold her. If Erik hadn't caught her, she would have simply crashed to the floor, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions that washed over her like a tidal wave as the realization hit her. This was real. Not a dream. Lockheed was here, just a few feet away.

The master of magnetism led her to the bed and she sat down next to the little pile of clothes and dragon, reaching out one shaking hand to stroke his head as tears streamed down her face and her breath tore out of her in ragged, gasping sobs. She was almost afraid to touch him, afraid he might disappear like so much smoke if she did. But he didn't disappear. He was warm and soft and real. 

As soon as she touched him, his slender head snapped up with a growl, his glowing, golden eyes narrowed menacingly. But when his gaze fell on Kitty's face, the little creature's whole body seemed to light up and Lockheed launched himself into his mistress' arms with a cry of delight and unbridled joy, nuzzling her cheek, licking the tears from her face, and cooing to her as she clutched him tight, sobbing into his soft, warm body. 

She had no idea how long she stayed like that, holding her little dragon, her companion and dear friend that she'd never thought to see again, sobbing brokenly, uncontrollably as all her bottled up emotions came pouring out in the wake of her profound relief and joy at finding Lockheed alive. How it was possible she didn't know, didn't care. All she cared about was that he was here, she was holding him, and he was alive.

Vaguely, she was aware of Erik handing her tissues, of his presence in the room, of Lockheed hissing and growling at the older mutant any time he felt that Magneto was getting just a little too close to him and his Kitty. But it was a long time before she was able to get herself under control enough to do anything but clutch her dragon and weep. 

Finally, as her sobbing subsided to random sniffles and hiccoughs, she seemed to regain some control over herself and Erik left her for a few moments, returning with a glass of cold water. Kitty took it gratefully, sipping it slowly, letting it soothe her raw, burning throat. As she handed the empty glass back to him, all she could manage to croak out, as she looked up into his light, crystal blue eyes, was one single word. 

"How?"

Magneto, the man so many people considered a soulless monster, smiled down at her fondly as he set the empty glass on a nearby table.

"One of my guards found him, some weeks back, hiding in a culvert. Not knowing who, or what, he was, the young man brought him to me." Erik smiled indulgently at the little dragon, who eyed him suspiciously and growled low in his throat, causing Genosha's ruler to chuckle in tolerant amusement. "Of course, I immediately recognized him, but he was severely injured." 

The white haired man's face sobered at this, and Kitty could easily guess that Lockheed's injuries had, indeed, been very grave. She'd seen him take the blaster hit, aimed at him by one member of a cell of human resistance fighters that had attacked a small mutant-human settlement she'd been visiting, in hopes of locating her father, or his whereabouts.

For days, she'd scoured the area, neither eating, sleeping, or resting, trying to find her dragon, or his body, without success. In the end, she'd been forced to give up the search, only able to assume that he had been killed. It had torn her heart to pieces as few other things ever had.

Now, hearing that he'd been lying somewhere, injured, scared, alone, that she'd left him there like that, Kitty felt even worse. Looking down into his scaly, iridescent purple face, she again felt tears burning behind her eyes as guilt stabbed through her.

"Oh, Lockheed, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you. I swear." As fresh tears slipped down her cheeks, the little dragon, seeing his mistress' distress, warbled to her softly, nuzzling her, trying to tell her that it was all right, that he knew she hadn't left him on purpose, that he loved her and knew she would come for him eventually.

"Why didn't you call me?" Kitty turned back to Magneto, swiping the tears from her eyes as Lockheed crawled onto her shoulder, curling himself around her neck contentedly. "I would have been here in a second."

"Katherine, he was very nearly dead when we found him. Honestly, I didn't think he would live. I know how attached you are to him and I also knew you wouldn't have left him if you'd believed he were still alive. I didn't want to get your hopes up in the event that we weren't able to save him." His brow furrowed in confusion, then as he continued. "I did try to reach the mansion a day or two ago, but, strangely enough, no one ever answered."

"That's because there's hardly anyone there. Nearly all the X-Men have left." she explained as he looked at her in surprise. "Storm took most of the current team – Sage, Bishop, Rogue, Thunderbird, Psylocke, and Beast - to Spain. They've broken away from Charles completely. Wolverine, and probably Nightcrawler, are here looking for me, as I'm sure you already know."

Kitty leveled a knowing look in his direction from under her dark lashes, but Magneto's only answer was a slight twitching at the corners of his mouth, causing her to shake her head and roll her eyes, unable to stop the slight smile that curved her lips. 

"Peter....well, he left for a try at a normal life. I hope." She sighed somewhat wistfully, pausing for a moment before continuing. "Gambit went home to New Orleans. Iceman went back to his accounting business. Cecelia may still be around, but she's got her own apartment, so she doesn't stay there nights. Charles and Jean have been gone for over a month on some mysterious 'fact finding' trip." She shrugged her shoulders, causing Lockheed to shift around her neck. "And I'm here. There's probably a few people at the school, but that's about it." 

"Are you saying that the X-Men have disbanded?" he asked incredulously. His question startled her, but then she considered it for a moment, realizing that it was, actually, an accurate assessment of the current situation.

"Yeah." she replied, surprised that she hadn't thought of it before now. "I guess I am."

"And what about you?" He asked, tilting his head to one side as he looked down at her, sitting there with her little purple dragon draped securely around her neck as she absently stroked Lockheed's head. "What plans do you have? I am assuming, of course, that you aren't planning on making Genosha your permanent home."

"No." she confirmed quietly, her other hand, all unconsciously, closing over the amulet she still wore around her neck. "There are....things... I need to work out. I'm really not sure where I'll go from here, but I won't be staying in Genosha."

In a rather uncharacteristic gesture for him, Magneto walked to her and knelt down, so that they were eye to eye. Reaching out, he gently removed her hand from around the Bloodstone Amulet, taking it in his own palm as he studied it.

"This looks very familiar."

"It was Illyana's."

At this, he nodded, but his eyes narrowed slightly, never leaving the ornate, golden amulet. "Katherine, I'm not sure how to explain this, but there is a strange.....I suppose the only accurate word is 'resonance'....to this piece of jewelry. Though that isn't entirely accurate, either." 

He stared at it for a moment longer, his expression puzzled, as he allowed his perceptions to shift, seeing not the actual piece of jewelry, a solid object, but a criss crossing of magnetic lines, patterns of force and energy. But they were jumbled, corrupted, wrong. What should have been smooth, aligned, and level, was, instead, bent, twisted, and broken. And he didn't know why. Never before had he seen anything quite like this.

"I believe you should remove this thing from your person, child. There is something most assuredly not right about it. I fear it may be dangerous."

Kitty gave a little snort, looking him directly in the face. "I know it is, but I can't get rid of it. I wish I could."

For a moment, the older man searched her face, seeming to try and gauge whether or not she was being serious. Apparently, he decided that she was. "If you're in need of help, Katherine...."

But Kitty only shook her head, removing the amulet from his hand to rest once more against her skin. "Thank you, but no."

Her voice was polite, but firm, and Magneto knew that he could not force his help, nor his advice, upon her. Though he was more worried about that strange amulet than he would care to admit. Very little actually made him nervous, but that thing did. "Very well. But keep in mind what I said. This amulet is not what it seems."

Erik stood once again, and Kitty got up as well, moving toward the door. "Thank you, Erik." Impulsively, she went to him, hugging him tightly. After a moments stunned surprise, he returned the embrace. "I can never repay you for what you've done for Lockheed. You've given me back my best friend and I'll never forget that."

The tall man patted her gently on the back, then stepped away as the dragon in question let out a particularly menacing growl, followed by a hiss of annoyance.

"You are more than welcome, though I should be thanking you. For the last few days, I've been dodging streams of flame at every turn, and I still haven't found two of my costumes." Despite his complaints, the powerful mutant chuckled. "He has made his displeasure with my company quite apparent."

Turning her head, Kitty tried to give her dragon a stern look, but ended up smiling indulgently instead as she scratched him under the chin. "Ungrateful dragon. That's no way to say thank you to someone who saved your life."

Lockheed's only reaction was to open one eye, glaring balefully at Magneto as he puffed a little stream of smoke from his nostrils and uttering a distinct "Pfui", before closing his eyes again and dropping his head back onto Kitty's shoulder.

The two mutants only laughed, shaking their heads indulgently at the little creature and his distinctive opinions. Reluctantly, Kitty turned back to the man who should, by all rights, not have cared one way or another about her or Lockheed, or any of the X-Men, but who had always been, if not their friend, then at least less of an enemy than many, and kinder to her than most.

"I really should be going. I've got some work waiting for me back at the hotel that I desperately need to get to."

Magneto nodded, taking her elbow and leading her back into the sitting room. "If you'll give me a moment to change, I'll walk you down." He smiled at her then, eyes twinkling as he laughed at himself a little. "I fear I'm late for my daily worshipping."

Kitty dropped her forehead into her hands as her shoulders shook with laughter. How on earth could she refuse a request like that? It was truly a shame that the rest of the world couldn't see this side of Erik Lensherr, instead of the madman he was invariably perceived to be.

True to his word, he reappeared less than ten minutes later in full Magneto regalia, complete with cape and helmet. She smiled at him a little sadly as he held his arm out to her, and she let him lead her out of the room and into the elevator. 

How much simpler it all would be if they could simply be Kitty and Erik, instead of Shadowcat and Magneto. But it never seemed to work out quite that way, and she knew that, the next time they met, if there was a next time, it would mostly likely be as enemies. 

They rode down in silence, both already feeling the distance, the wall that invariably sprang up to separate the X-Man from the would-be mutant ruler of the world. And Kitty felt as if she were closing out one more chapter in her life.

Like the pages in a book, she was moving through her past, looking it over, then putting it behind her. Almost as if she were shedding her old life in preparation for something else. What would happen, she wondered, when she turned the last page?

The elevator came to a gentle stop and they stepped out, again wordlessly, moving down the hall side by side, unconsciously matching their strides. 

If the two had been paying any attention to the Acolytes they passed as they strode toward the front of the huge building, they would have caught the questioning, slightly uneasy, looks aimed their way as Magneto's followers wondered at the free roaming X-Man at his side. It was not exactly a common sight and it caused more than a little speculation as to what might be going on.

Just as they reached the wide doors leading out onto the commons, Kitty stopped, tugging gently on Erik's sleeve to get his attention. He stopped as well, turning to her with a questioning expression and she looked once more into those keenly intelligent, ocean blue eyes, her own face holding a hint of silent entreaty. 

"Will you do me a favor, Erik? Before you make a decision, do something you can't take back, will you think, long and hard, about what it might mean for the rest of the world, and whether you can live with the consequences?"

After a moment, Magneto nodded gravely, taking her request in the spirit in which it was meant. "I promise you, Katherine. I will do nothing lightly. I am well aware of what my actions may mean to this world. And I ask something of you, as well. Think on what I said about this amulet." With a nod, he indicated the Bloodstone Amulet, hanging just above the swell of her breasts. "I fear it is more dangerous than you can know."

She nodded as well, following him outside as he turned and strode through the doors, his personal guards, already assembled and waiting for him, falling into step with them and surrounding the two mutants as they moved to the head of the wide marble steps.

The roar of the crowd, upon their first sighting of their leader and chosen savior, was deafening, rising in crescendo until Kitty thought the noise would bring the entire building down on their heads. It was like a physical force, hammering at them mercilessly.

On her shoulder, Lockheed lifted his head, glaring out at the crowd with annoyance writ large on his face. Kitty could imagine that he was grumbling, in his own, grumpy way, about the unwelcome disturbance, but she couldn't hear anything above the the heavy wall of sound blanketing them.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Magneto managed to quiet them, but the roar didn't stop with the crowd's silence. It was still there, inside her head, and Kitty wondered if maybe her eardrums had ruptured. Then, she noticed that the glass in the building's doors and windows were vibrating violently, and she knew it wasn't her imagination.

She and Erik exchanged a puzzled, concerned look, then began scanning the area, trying to locate the source of the bass rumble that seemed to be growing louder with each second that passed.

Reaching up to the top of her head, Kitty pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes, hitting a button on the side of the frame that activated the micro-circuitry built into the glasses, allowing her to access their long range vision capabilities. 

Sage had designed the glasses for Storm's team, as a means of communication and including several enhancements that would provide them with even more resources that they could use in a variety of situations. But it had been Kitty who built them and made them work. She was about to give hers their first field test.

By this time, nearly everyone in the area was looking around them in confusion, unable to pinpoint where the steadily increasing roar was coming from without success. Turning her face to the sky, Kitty turned in the circle, scanning the sky. When she turned toward the front of the palace, she froze, staring at the building before her. 

A large, tall building, a modern skyscraper, with a long, tapering, spire set at it's apex. 

Her heart dropped to her feet and she went cold inside as, in her mind, another image superimposed itself over the building in front of her. A picture from Irene Adler's diary, the one she'd seen on her computer screen, less than two hours ago.

The images were nearly identical, the lines of the drawing fitting almost perfectly over the shape of the actual building they represented, and she suddenly knew exactly what they were hearing, knew exactly what was coming at them just as fast as they could propel themselves through the air. Death was coming for them all, not on a pale horse, but on swift, steel monsters whose only purpose was the annihilation of every mutant on the planet.

Kitty turned back toward Erik, toward the thousands of people gathered in Magda square, and screamed out the only word she possibly could, the one that would fit in her mind at the moment.

"**SENTINELS!"**

* * *

**A/N: **I have realized, looking back at chapters 13 and 14, that those darn things are way too long. In retrospect, I should have broken each one down into two chapters to make them easier to read and to avoid putting my readers into comas or causing them to explode from story overload. In the future, I will endeavor to keep in mind that updates don't have to be fifty pages long and I don't have to cram everything into one epic-length chapter.

**To my reviewers: **To those of you who are left and weren't rendered unconscious by the last two chapters before this one, let me say a great big "THANK YOU!" You are the reason I have stuck with this. To the rest of you: I know you're out there. I can hear you breathing. Don't be frightened to review. I won't bite. Really. I'm quite harmless.

**Araya-Michiru: **Well, now I'm dying to know what your first guess was. Glad some of the confuzzledness (??. I think I'm lapsing into an alien language now.) is going away. It should get progressively better from here on out. I hope. Don't hesitate to let me know if it doesn't.

**B(): **Sorry about your day, but glad you liked the chapter. I have wicked, evil plans for Vargas. Heheheh. In the comics, he was rather intriguing, but then he just disappeared, along with some weird, alien warrior that looked like Storm. I think they're shacking up together somewhere in Madripor.

**Darkstorm5000: **I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, especially if you lived through those two massive chapters and made it this far. I have a whole rant on the extremely lame way that they killed off Peter in UXM #390. It was just pathetic and I will never forgive Marvel. I'm keeping a list of all the horrors they've inflicted on my favorite characters. It's a loooong list. Thanks for your kind words, and I hope you enjoyed chapter 15. 

**Kirayoshi: **By the end of this, Vargas will deserve all the horrors and beatings we can possibly visit upon him. Trust me, he'll get his in spades. Yeah, I love Kurt and Amanda and think it's a shame that they've sent her off to Limbo, literally and figuratively. The Elf could use some love right about now from what I'm seeing in the comics. They're always good for some laughs when they're together and I figured we could all use a little levity about then. God knows, I could. Poor Logan. He's got worse coming very soon, so think of him as I write chapter 16. Now, what do you think about Lockheed's return? I must know. But black hair and veins on Kitty?? (makes little cross with her fingers.) Nooooo! Well....maybe.

**Lia Fail:** Glad you liked the dream sequence and those diary riddles. Those things took me forever and I still have more I have to make up. We'll have more dreams in later chapters, and they'll help explain what's going on. Plus, we'll have more characters being blessed with them. I have to agree with you about the Promethium Exchange story line from Excalibur. That had to be the most lame use of the Soulsword and Limbo in history. I almost decided to ignore it, but I needed that part about Rachel. I tried to make it as interesting as possible, which I honestly wasn't quite sure how to do. But I'm glad to know it worked out ok. The problems with Kitty in X-Treme X-Men has, IMHO, been the fact that they keep insisting on portraying her as a #&! teenager and it's just not working. I've seen some of Whedon's pages and, so far, they give me hope. I can't wait till Astonishing hits the stands. I just wish they'd given Kurt to Joss, too. Maybe he could give him his sanity back. Thanks for hanging in there and I hope you enjoyed chapter 15.

**T.A. Pixiestix: **Yeah. Still no cookies. Very depressing. Think I'll go get some tomorrow. Yes, creepy Vargas is back and will be popping up at random throughout the story from now on. And, yes, he's the same guy from the dream and he is not what he seems. We all love Logan. He's a really fun character to write, too. But think of him. I'm running him through the grinder next chapter and he's going to be a very unhappy Wolverine for a little while. It makes me sad, but I have to do it. You have my sympathy on the biology. My most prominent memory from my high school biology class (for reference, that was sometime around the same time they invented the wheel and discovered fire.) is of my friend making earrings out of his biology frog. Not my favorite class. 

* * *

**Coming Soon: **Chapter 16 – S Is For Sentinel. The big, mutant hating robots are headed for Genosha and it ain't gonna be pretty. Much fighting and angst ensues and an important decision is made that will change more than one character's life forever.


	16. Let It Burn

**Disclaimer:** Ok, I confess. The X-Men don't belong to me. Really. I know you've all been thinking that I own them, but, well, I don't. They belong to this company called Marvel, who mistreats them horribly on a regular basis. And, since I don't own the X-Men, I guess I'm not getting paid for this either. Figures.

**Warning: **Remember how, last chapter, nobody died. Well, you should've known it wouldn't last. This chapter involves death. A lot of death. There will be disturbing imagery and some pretty graphic violence. The normal things that tend to happen when you have a bunch of giant, killer robots invade a country. If this will bother or offend you, stop reading now.

**Note: **This chapter deals fairly extensively with Sentinels. Since everyone may not be familiar with what these are, and it's hard to work an understandable history of these things into the story when the characters are in the middle of battle, I'm including a little Sentinel background history here. If you're already pretty familiar with what Sentinels are, just skip down to the story. If not, read on.

**Sentinels:** Ok, basically, Sentinels are large robots, usually about 20 ft tall or so, generically humanoid in shape. They were originally designed by a guy named Bolivar Trask with the intention of hunting, capturing, and sometimes killing mutants. They normally come equipped with mutant tracking sensors, catch webs, disintegrator rays, and all manner of other deadly or unpleasant weapons. Trask was killed by one of his own units which malfunctioned, but his son took over the family business and kept it going until the X-Men finally destroyed the whole works.

After that, there were various people, over a long period of time, who restarted the Sentinel program. These include Stephen Lang and the Hellfire club. As time went on, Sentinels became less prone to capture mutants and more prone to just kill them outright. These robots are self-adapting and can learn to counter specific mutant abilities as well as modify and repair themselves. Normally, they are controlled by a Master Mold Sentinel, which is sort of a leader unit that manufactures and controls the drone Sentinels.

During Operation Zero Tolerance, a new kind of Sentinel was created called a Prime Sentinel. These were human beings who were fitted with cybernetic parts (not always with their consent) and implants and used to destroy mutants. Once a human is turned into a Prime Sentinel, there is no way to change them back.

The Sentinels that we will be seeing in this chapter are also a slightly different species called Wild Sentinels. They are unique in that their Master Mold escaped from a program at some point and set up shop in the jungle, building it's drones out of whatever was available. They can, and will, cannibalize any available metal or machinery for repair parts.

Instead of all of them being human-like in shape, the Wild Sentinels look like all manner of animals, insects, and, in some cases, machines as well. There were also some of them which were significantly larger than any other Sentinel previously seen. A height of 40-50 ft would be my guess. The only purpose the Wild Sentinels have in life is to kill mutants.

So, Cassandra Nova sent these Wild Sentinels to Genosha, the largest concentration of mutants on earth, for no other purpose than genocide. In the comics, 16 million people died during the Sentinel attack on Genosha. Only a handful of the population survived. Carmen Pryde (Kitty's father) was among those who died in Magda Square during the massacre.

* * *

**Paper Flowers**

**Chapter 16 – Let It Burn**

It was only a few short minutes later that the two X-Men - along with the former Excalibur member, recently deposed ruler of Limbo, and resident sorceress all rolled into one - met back in Amanda's room, changed and ready for their impromptu visit to the Master of Magnetism.

Or, at least as ready as one could possibly be when preparing to confront Magneto, the X-Men's oldest and, arguably, most powerful enemy, to ask him for a favor.

_**Oh, yeah. This is gonna work. We're gonna 'port in there and he's gonna fry us all on the spot. Or die laughing.**_

Amanda Sefton looked at her two companions, then down at herself, shaking her head in frank amazement and wondering who, exactly, had designed the X-Men's new uniforms.

Oh, Kurt and Logan looked fine. Actually, Nightcrawler's black and gray body suit was a good choice for him. And Logan's black pants, shirt, and matching jacket, with their yellow piping trim, looked positively normal, which she knew must have thrilled him beyond words.

But hers....well, it was another story all together.

"Guys, tell me again why I have this giant, yellow 'X' plastered across my chest. Am I the designated target for this little mission and nobody told me?"

"Sorry, Liebe." Kurt tried to sound appropriately sympathetic as he choked back a snort of laughter. "It was the best we could do on short notice. We were not exactly expecting you to drop by Westchester to join us for this little foray."

Completely unappeased, Amanda stood there, hands on her hips, dressed in the black pants and top that were part of the X-Men's updated uniforms. It would have been perfectly acceptable, except for the huge, banana yellow 'X' that took up three quarters of the front of the top, stretching from her shoulders to her waist. Admittedly, it made her look somewhat similar to a walking alphabet block.

"I feel like a living 'you are here' symbol."

"Relax, 'Manda." Logan chimed in, trying not to grin. He had to admit, the massive letters plastered across the chest might not have been such a good idea in retrospect. "Just be glad yer not stuck with Betts' or Storm's new outfits. Psylocke's look like somethin' outta the Fredricks of Hollywood bondage catalogue, and Storms legs are cut all th' way up ta her armpits and there's a big, yellow lightnin' bolt across the front."

"And just exactly how drunk **were **you all when you were choosing the new look? Seriously, I feel like a moron."

"You look fine." Kurt assured her. "And it doubles as body armor."

"Oh. Well, then. That completely excuses the fact that it looks like it was designed by Stevie Wonder." Amanda replied in her most biting, sarcastic tone. "Come on. Tell me the truth. You let Bishop pick these out, didn't you?"

"Nah." Logan was grinning this time. He couldn't help it. "But I think it might'a been Warren and Jean."

"I rest my case." Amanda threw out flatly, mumbling to herself under her breath. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the spandex."

With a roll of her bright blue eyes and a resigned sigh, she let it drop and turned back to her two friends, her expression growing suddenly serious, as she put away the laughter and the teasing, focusing on what they were about to do. A little therapeutic laughter to release some of the tension was good, but it was time to get down to business.

"Are you guys positive you want to do this?"

"Ja." Kurt replied with a sober nod as Logan shrugged his shoulders, his face set.

"Ain't got much choice, darlin'. If there's anybody on this island that's likely ta know where Kit is, it'll be Mags. You just get us there, we'll handle th' rest."

Taking a deep breath, Amanda nodded. She wasn't new to the superhero game and she had a good idea what they would be in for, the kind of risk they were taking. And she hoped, with all her heart, that all of them, including Kitty, would make it out of this thing in one piece.

"You got it, boss. Hang onto your hats, fellas. Here we go."

With nothing more than an almost negligent wave of her graceful hands, a softly spoken spell, and a brilliant, incandescent flash, they were gone, their passing marked only by a few brightly colored bubbles of light that danced in the air for a moment before slowly fading away.

* * *

The day was unusually lovely, especially for this part of the world. Clear, cloudless, sun drenched, the temperature hovering in the upper sixties. A soft, almost warm, breeze blew in off the ocean, carrying with it a hint of brine as it gently ruffled the tender, young blades of bright green grass that sprang up in patches here and there along the otherwise rocky, barren ground.

It was a day that should have inspired art, poetry, songs, with it's delicate, rare beauty, it's air of peace and tranquility a balm to the soul. But, for the first time in a long while, Peter Rasputin could find absolutely nothing about the day, the scene, or the world that seemed to inspire him in the least.

He stood on one of the higher among the many steep, craggy bluffs that surrounded Muir Island, his easel set up in front of him, holding a blank, white canvass, his well used palette, dozens of tubes of oil paints, and dozens more assorted brushes and tools nearby as well, simply waiting.

Peter had come out here with the intention of painting something, anything, to take his mind off of recent events, off of the hollow, empty feeling that he'd had inside of him ever since he'd woken up alone on that last day in Westchester. But all he could do was stand there, staring out at the sun dappled water, watching the waves rise and fall, glittering in hues of gold, silver, gray, and blue as the early afternoon light reflected off the surface of the unusually calm sea.

It wasn't, however, the glittering waves, or the glass blue of the ocean, or the streaming, golden sunlight that he was seeing. No matter where he looked, no matter what he did, whether he was sleeping or awake, all he saw was a delicate, smiling face with wide, golden brown eyes, framed by a cascade of lustrous, chestnut locks.

Peter missed her desperately, ached to have her with him, but she was beyond his reach. And without her beside him, nothing worked. Nothing mattered.

Art, of any form or kind, required the artist to put their heart and soul into what they were creating, whether it be painting, dancing, writing, or any of the dozens of other forms of human expression in the world. Without that kind of commitment, the actions, the intentions, were utterly useless, conveying nothing.

How could he expect to accomplish anything when his heart and soul were no longer with him, were no longer his own? Kitty had taken them with her when she left and he was sorely afraid that he would never get them back again. Nor did he particularly want to.

So, why was he even bothering to try and pretend that anything could go on as before, when he knew that it couldn't? That it never would again.

There wasn't a moment that went by in the day or night that he didn't think of her, wonder where she was, what she was doing, if she was all right, if she was feeling as lost and alone as he felt. Dozens of times over the last days, he'd nearly left to find her. It was all he could think of and there was this constant, nagging feeling that she needed him.

But she'd asked him not to look for her and he was trying, with every ounce of willpower he possessed, to do as she'd asked. Even though it was killing him, a little at a time, a little more each day.

Logan, Kurt, and Amanda were there, now, in Genosha, looking for her. If – when – they found her, one of them would contact Rhane. Kurt had promised her that he would let her know of any news and Peter knew that the German X-Man would keep his word. But it still didn't feel right to him, sitting back while someone else did what he should be doing himself. While he stood here, waiting, and the woman he loved fought this battle alone.

When he slept, which was happening less and less, he dreamed of her. During the day, he saw her face everywhere he looked. And every day, he fought an internal war to keep himself from going down to the hangar, getting into the Midnight Runner and flying to Genosha.

It was making him restless, edgy, and ill tempered and Peter didn't like the person he was becoming. If something didn't happen soon, if they didn't receive some word from the others, he would not be able to hold out much longer.

A sound from behind him, from the direction of the complex, drew his attention, and he turned curiously, seeing Rhane quickly making her way toward him, almost running, her long, red hair fluttering in the breeze, her face grim and set. One look at her and Peter felt his heart stutter and nearly stop as his mind cheerfully whispered to him that he really should be more careful what he wished for.

Peter hurried to meet her, terrified of what the look on her face might mean, his vivid imagination gleefully supplying him with all manner of scenarios, a hundred and one different ways that she could inform him that he was never going to see Kitty again, that she was truly gone from him for good. He was expecting a myriad of things, all of them horrible, but he certainly wasn't expecting what she actually said.

"What is it, Rhane? Has there been news?"

At his anxious question, her face tilted up toward him as she stood there, her arms wrapped around herself, agitation, trepidation, and turmoil written plainly in every line and movement of her body, her bright green eyes clouded with uncertainty.

"I'm not sure, Peter. I was in the communications room just now, checkin' some of the equipment, and I picked up a transmission from a squadron of fighter jets. They were trailin' somethin' just off the coast of Africa, near Madagascar......"

Peter laid his hands on her shoulder, brow furrowed in confusion as he gave her a puzzled, look. What did fighter jets in Madagascar have to do with anything? "I do not understand. What does this have to do...."

Before he could finish, Rhane shook her head with a violent jerk, her temper flaring to life easily in her already agitated state, as she snapped out, cutting him off. "Will ye listen to me?!"

Her unusually sharp tone drew him up short and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Panic wouldn't help anything. Hands coming up to clutch at his arms, her fingers dug into his flesh almost painfully, with a strength born of urgency, as her emerald eyes locked with his dark blue ones letting him read the fear there, as well as a keen, edgy, disquiet that he was well familiar with within himself.

When Rhane spoke again, he understood the reason for the look, the agitation, the fear. Her hesitant words were ones that Peter had never expected in his wildest imagination, but they made his blood run cold just the same.

"Peter, I'm not sure, it all happened so quickly. The jets were transmittin' one minute and gone the next, like they'd ne'er even existed. But.....what they were describin'....well....it sounded like Sentinels. Hundreds of them. And they were headed toward Genosha."

* * *

Kitty screamed out the warning as loud as her vocal cords would allow, knowing that they had only seconds to act and having no idea how many Sentinels they might be dealing with. It could be dozens, it could be hundreds, it could be thousands. They wouldn't know until the metal mutant hunters were already on top of them.

There were countless scores of people in the square. If they didn't get them out, get them under cover, very, very quickly, they were all going to die a horrible, nightmarish death.

Her eyes met Magnetos, seeing his go wide with shock and surprise, as she knew hers already were, but it only took him a fraction of a second to recover himself. They had done this too many times, fought this foe again and again, and he didn't waste time on questions or panic.

"I will try to head off as many as I can. Take the guards and get as many people to safety as possible."

Magneto didn't even bother to wait for her acknowledgment, knowing he didn't need to, before he took to the air, soaring high as he gathered power from the earth's own magnetic field, letting it fill him to bursting as he prepared for battle.

Already on the move, Kitty screamed out orders to the Acolytes around her as she felt Lockheed lift off from her shoulder, his leathery wings propelling him upward with ease. He positioned himself directly above his mistress, prepared to defend her with his own life against anything that might pose even the slightest threat.

With one graceful leap, Shadowcat completely cleared the palace steps, landing lightly as her namesake and quickly surveying her surroundings. She paused only long enough to hit another microswitch on the frames of her glasses, one that would connect her to the rest of the network Storm's team was using and transmit everything she was seeing directly into Sage's database.

In case they didn't make it out of this in one piece, Kitty wanted to make sure the world, and the rest of the X-Men, knew exactly what had happened. She had no idea who had sent these killers to Genosha, but she intended that they would pay dearly, one way or another. If she died, she knew her death, and the death of countless civilians, would not go unavenged.

The Acolytes, she noticed with some satisfaction, were already springing into action even as she was, moving quickly into the near-panicked crowd, splitting into two groups, with one herding the civilians toward whatever shelter was handy, while the rest took up position with Kitty, ready to provide what cover possible for their escape.

Of course, the Sentinels could, and would, take down the buildings, but at least it might give some of them a fighting chance. Out here, in the open commons, they were lambs for the slaughter, with no protection to be had, easy pickings for the death machines.

Even though most of the population of the island nation was composed of mutants, not all, or even most, had abilities that would be, in any way, useful in battle. And the ones that did were untrained in the use of those abilities. Shadowcat, Magneto, and the Acolytes present were the only hope these people had.

They could hear them coming clearly now, from roughly toward the west, the roar of their jet propulsion systems ringing so loudly that it seemed to worm itself inside her very skull, bouncing around in her head, refusing to leave, seeming to grow louder and louder. Shadowcat forced herself to ignore it, concentrating instead on the adrenaline pumping through her system, priming her for the fight as it shut out everything else.

Kitty let it come, encouraged it, let it wash through her, needing every edge she could possibly get. And she doubted that, in the end, even that would be enough.

The Acolytes, along with the Genoshan military personnel who had been among the crowd, seemed to be making some progress in evacuating the Square, but there was no hope of getting everyone under cover fast enough. There would still be hundreds, if not thousands, of people caught in the open when the damned things landed.

Overhead, massive explosions began to ring out and she looked up to see the formerly clear sky literally filled with Sentinels, a broken, dark, teeming mass that stretched all the way to the horizon. There were hundreds, upon hundreds of them.

"Dear God..." she heard an Acolyte nearby whisper in fearful awe, and she had to agree. It was, indeed, a fearsome, awe inspiring sight.

Into the midst of them, Magneto ascended like a rocket, pulsing out massive waves of destructive magnetic force, blowing apart dozens of Sentinels at once. It sent a rain of shrapnel down into the square and surrounding area, but it couldn't be helped. Compared to the damage the Sentinels would do, the shrapnel was a negligible danger.

Kitty phased instinctively, allowing the hail of metal to pass harmlessly through her, whirling as the first explosion shook the ground, even as she heard the screams of the wounded and possibly dying that had been caught in the blast. The first wave of Sentinels - the ones that had managed to make their way past Magneto in, more or less, one piece - landed on the cobblestone square with a dull, ringing thud as metal contacted stone, already sending out energy blasts in all directions.

Even as her body sprang into motion, her arms going behind her to pull out the adamantium bladed katana's that she wore strapped across her back, Kitty's mind registered, for the first time, that these robots were like no other Sentinels she had ever seen.

Always before, the mutant hunting machines had been humanoid in appearance, though many considerably larger than any human being, some as much as 20 ft tall. There had even been Prime Sentinels. Human/Sentinel cyborgs, programmed to seek out and destroy any mutants they found. But these.....these were like something out of a twisted, sick nightmare.

They looked as if they'd been cobbled together out of spare parts, rusty metal, ragged, exposed wiring, mismatched pieces. But that wasn't even the strangest part. Many, in fact most, of them weren't anything resembling humanoid. Instead, they looked like spiders, snakes, lions, monkeys, animals and insects of all kinds and descriptions.

If the situation had been different, Kitty would have simply stopped and gaped at them, but indulging her curiosity wasn't something she could afford to do at the moment. Any hesitation, the slightest lapse of concentration on her part, and she would be promptly blown to small, bite size, Shadowcat bits.

Charging forward, she dodged blaster fire, snaking metal appendages, and flying shrapnel as she lit into the nearest Sentinel, one that looked something like a mutated gecko. As it's tail whipped out, trying to snare her, she brought one sword down, amputating about four feet of the metal appendage near the tip, as she brought the other katana around and sliced through it's midsection.

The machine flew apart in a satisfying shower of sparks and pieces and she moved quickly to the next one.

On and on it went, as she, and the Acolytes fighting with her, went from one robot to the next, not daring to think beyond whatever they were battling at the moment. If they tried to grasp the sheer scope of the numbers, the overwhelming odds they were up against, they would never be able to continue the battle. The vast extent of what they were dealing with was almost beyond human comprehension.

Better to simply take it one Sentinel at a time, take out as many as they could while they had the chance. Because they were fighting a battle they would inevitably lose in the end. The only question was, how long could they hold out before being over run.

She was like a whirlwind, cutting, slicing, stabbing, kicking, punching, phasing, leaping, whirling, turning, doing whatever was necessary to stay alive just a little longer.

Kitty didn't dare slow down, even for a moment. The damned things were everywhere and she was only just barely keeping out of their grasp, avoiding the barrage of blaster fire, flying projectiles, catch nets, and metal cables.

Already she had dozens of cuts, bruises, lacerations and scrapes, and was thankful that the injuries weren't yet any more serious than that.

Thankfully, she saw that most of the Acolytes seemed to be holding their own as well, fighting fiercely to keep the deadly robots at bay, while even more of Magneto's followers continued to work with the panicked, hysterical crowd.

It was inevitable that they would eventually be overwhelmed. They were only human, after all, but they would buy as much time as they could. She would probably die today, but she would fight to the very last breath she had. Kitty had fought these damned machines, off and on, for almost half her life. If they managed to finally destroy her today, then she would take as many of them as she possibly could with her before it was over.

Explosions continued to ring out overhead as Magneto pushed himself to the limit, taking out whole squadrons of Sentinels at once, never giving them a chance to set foot on the island nation. He was accompanied by Lockheed - off and on between laying down cover fire for Kitty and the Acolytes on the ground - spouting gouts of white hot flame into the oncoming enemy, reducing the ones he hit to so much slag and melted electrical systems, sending them crashing into the ocean or to the hard ground far below.

But it wasn't going to be enough. Kitty knew it within five minutes into the fight. For every one they took out, it seemed that two came to take their place. And some of the ones already dispatched were reforming, repairing themselves, and returning to the fight.

Despite the fact that, apparently, the most powerful of the mutant Acolytes were fighting beside her, frying and ripping apart Sentinels with everything from raw energy blasts, to telekinesis, pyrokenesis, heat projection, super strength, and super-sonic soundwave blasts, along with more conventional weapons, the number of the enemy only seemed to grow.

And the damned things were talking the whole time, spouting out their judgments in loud, cold, electronic tones as Acolytes began to fall like dominos, and the wave of invaders began to overwhelm the defensive force.

**"Non-human entity determined. Execute"**

**"Non-human entity determined. Execute"**

**"Non-human entity determined. Execute"**

**"Non-human entity determined. Execute"**

Kitty heard them repeating the phrase over and over until she thought she'd go mad. She was surrounded, Sentinels closing in all around her. And then, she heard the first screams from behind her as the killers reached the helpless, fleeing crowd.

As she dodged a cable, striking out with her katana, removing it permanently from it's owner, another Sentinel fired at her, catching her a glancing blow to the right shoulder that nearly flung her to the ground.

She managed to keep her feet by sheer force of will, phasing to avoid the oncoming rush as the enemy closed in tighter. If she hit the ground now, she was dead.

It would be no problem for her to remain phased, but she would be of little or no use to the fight that way. After the first few she'd short circuited, the whole lot seemed to have adapted to her phasing power. The last one she'd tried to walk through had attempted to deliver her a nasty shock and she didn't dare try it again. She would have to rely on nothing but her own skill and agility.

They seemed to be having considerably more trouble adapting to Magneto's power, but he was obviously slowing, the explosions from overhead coming farther and farther apart as the rain of shrapnel slowed from a downpour to a drizzle and more and more Sentinels touched down on Genosha.

Managing to maneuver several of the metal killing machines into a fairly tight group, Kitty reached out and grabbed one that looked somewhat like a mis-shapen ape, not phasing through it, but phasing **it** along with her and swinging it into two others, a spider and a snake, just as she let go. They solidified together into one big lump, then exploded with a gratifying boom.

With a smile of pure, grim, malice, Kitty performed the stunt a few more times, taking out about a dozen Sentinels in all, before they again adapted and she had to abandon that particular tactic.

Around her, she could hear the screams of the injured, the dying, could see the bodies fall, smell the blood, hear bones breaking, the wet, tearing sounds that flesh made as it was violently ripped asunder, but she forced herself to ignore it, to shut it all out. Later, if she lived, if any of them lived, there would be time for mourning, time to regret all the lives that would be lost today.

Right now, all she had time to worry about was staying alive long enough to take out as many of these horrors as possible.

In the next moment, though, Kitty realized that her time had just run out.

The ground shook beneath her, and she spared a quick glance in the direction of the Presidential Palace, only to see an image from her worst nightmare. Standing there, only a couple hundred yards away, was the largest Sentinel she had ever laid eyes on. Just as Irene Adler's Diary had predicted.

It was easily forty stories tall, if not more, shaking the ground with every step it took. Almost in slow motion, the monstrosity turned it's head to survey the island, the people running around beneath it appearing as ants scrambling from the destruction of their hill.

Then, it turned again, seeming to look directly at Kitty as it's electronic voice boomed out, so loud that it shattered every window within a mile radius.

"**NON-HUMAN ENTITY DETERMINED. EXECUTE."**

And with fire shooting from it's eyes, the fulfillment of Destiny's prophecy brought Hell to Genosha.

* * *

For at least the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes, Peter checked the gauges lining the Midnight Runner's control panel. And for the fifteenth time, they looked exactly the same. It was all he could do to restrain himself from smashing his fist directly though the middle of them.

Beside him, in the co-pilot's seat, Rhane was fidgeting, just as restless as he was, but there was nothing left for them to do but wait out the trip and hope they would be in time to do some good.

They hadn't even needed to discuss it. Both of them had known, with absolute certainty, that they couldn't sit on Muir Isle and wait when it was almost certain that a massive group of Sentinels was heading toward the country where at least three, and most probably four, of their closest friends in the world were currently located.

Though he would have much rather left her on Muir and come on his own, Peter hadn't been able to dissuade Rhane. She had been adamant, refusing to let him go without her, and he hadn't had the time to waste arguing with her. It wouldn't have done him any good anyway.

Rhane was as immovably stubborn as her mother had been when she set her mind to something.

At least she had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to stay in the plane in the event that they actually did encounter Sentinels. A normal human being, one with no special powers or abilities with which to defend themselves, wouldn't stand a chance against the metal assassins. Even the more powerful mutants could barely hold their own.

Peter only hoped, if Genosha were under attack, that they would arrive in time to aid in some way.

Currently, they were pushing the advanced little aircraft to it's limits, covering hundreds of miles in mere minutes, but both were well aware that it might not be enough. They had been far away, with an entire continent between Muir Island and Genosha. It was more than possible, it was probable, that it would all be over before they even got inside the same time zone as the island nation.

But they didn't care. It made absolutely no difference. They had to try, or they would never be able to live with themselves. If there was anything, anything at all, that they could possibly do, they couldn't stay away, no matter the danger.

As he peered out the Runner's windshield, staring unseeingly at the passing clouds, the faces of his friends swam before Peter's eyes.

Kurt, Logan, Amanda. And, of course, Kitty.

What would he do if they didn't reach them in time? How would he ever be able to live with himself if anything happened to any of them? He had made a horrible mistake by not going with them to Genosha, and now they, as well as he, might pay a terrible price for that mistake.

It was a very real possibility that he would lose his friends, would lose the one woman he loved above all else in the world. It was also a very real possibility that it had already happened. He honestly didn't think he would be able to survive it.

"How much longer, Rhane?"

The young Scots woman glanced over at him, sensing in him the same frustration, the same fear, the same nervous tension and angry impatience that she was feeling herself.

Though she knew that they were moving at unbelievable speed, it felt as if they were sitting still and she wanted to push the plane, kick it, scream at it, do anything that might speed it to their destination.

How much worse must it be for Peter, knowing that Kitty was there and what might be happening to her while they could only wait for the time and the miles to pass? Surely, it must be very near unbearable for him.

Again glancing at the instrument panel in front of her, she took their speed and distance left to travel, calculating the approximate amount of time they had left until they entered Genoshan air space.

"About ten minutes or so, I think." Reaching out, she slipped her hand into his and his fingers immediately curled tightly around hers, almost as if she were his lifeline. "I ken it seems like fore'er, but I have to believe we'll get there in time. Ye need to believe that, too, Peter."

"I am trying, little one." he replied with a sigh. "I am trying."

The two X-Men settled back once more into frustrated, impatient silence, watching the miles tick away much more slowly than either of them wanted, their hearts and minds already miles ahead.

* * *

Nightcrawler, Wolverine, and Daytripper emerged on the palace steps, into the middle of chaos and destruction, completely unprepared.

"What the flamin' hell....?!"

"Mein Gott!"

Grabbing his two companions, Nightcrawler teleported just a millisecond before multiple blaster fire hit the spot they'd been standing. They materialized to one side of Magda square and were immediately besieged by Sentinels the likes of which they had never imagined, much less actually seen.

"Amanda, get th' hell outta here! You can't fight these things!" His claws coming out with a soft "snickt", Wolverine reduced the nearest Sentinel to so much scrap metal, even as he called out the warning.

"And go where?!" the sorceress yelled back as she kicked out at something that looked suspiciously like a metal and wire monkey, as it tried to grab at her with slithering metal tentacles. She was unable to do it any damage, but at least she got it off of her. For the moment.

"Where did these things come from?" Kurt asked of no one in particular as he managed to grab the head of one Sentinel, teleporting it several feet away as the body shorted out and crashed to the stone cobbles in a heap.

"Damned if I know." was Logan's reply as he took a blaster hit to the chest that staggered him, but didn't send him down. He promptly dispatched the robot responsible, only to have what seemed to be three more take it's place. "But we're in deep shit here. There's a shit load of these damned things."

"Oh, my God."

Amanda's soft exclamation drew both men's attention and they automatically turned toward her, still fighting, to find her staring in stark horror toward the horizon. It only took a moment to understand why.

The ground vibrated violently as a Sentinel the size of Godzilla strode up to the Presidential Palace, standing almost eye to eye with the spire atop the skyscraper. In the time it took to blink, pulser rays emitted from it's eyes reduced the building to so much rubble and setting fire to everything within the immediate vicinity.

All around them, the already panicked citizen, caught in a scene beyond the worst nightmare they could have imagined, went into complete and total hysterical meltdown, running, screaming, with no order or direction. And the Sentinels were picking them off at the rate of three and four at a time.

"We're all going to die." Amanda said it in an almost conversational tone as her brain completely shut down. She didn't even have the capacity to be afraid. She was far past that, in a place where she was simply numb, taking in everything around her as if watching a movie flicker across a screen.

"No. We are not."

A few feet away, Magneto touched down, having done everything he could to reduce the number of Sentinels that were actually able to land on the island. He had taken out hundreds, but there were hundreds more still left, laying waste to his country and his people.

He was completely and totally drained, running on adrenaline alone, but he would not give up, would not let these things take over, slaughter his people. Not while he still had breath left in his body.

With only a moment's concentration, he managed to send out enough of an electromagnetic pulse to decimate all of the Sentinels within a twenty foot radius of himself and the three X-Men, giving them all enough breathing room, to take better defensive positions for the next wave that was headed toward them as fast as their legs, tentacles, tails, whatever, could carry them

"We are going to fight. And we are going to win." His voice rang with authority, a tone that said he would accept no other possible outcome. "I will not allow these abominations, nor their creators, to destroy what I have built. **They. Will. Not. Win.**"

The last was said through clenched teeth, as the Master of Magnetism regarded his somewhat reluctant allies, even as he blew several more Sentinels into dust. His eyes briefly met Wolverine's, and the two men stared at one another, hostility plainly written on their faces, their posture, for all to see.

There was no love lost between these two men, these two powerful, aggressive personalities, but both knew now was not the time for settling old scores. That could be addressed later, if they any of them were still alive then.

In silent acknowledgment of a tentative truce, both mutants nodded sharply to one another before breaking eye contact and both Nightcrawler and Daytripper breathed a quiet, heartfelt, sigh of relief as they continued fighting for their own lives. Neither of them had any desire to play referee in the middle of a massacre.

All around them, the battle continued to rage as the massive Sentinel drew closer to their position. Most of the crowd had been either removed from Magda Square by now, or were already beyond help. With only a few small, straggling groups left here and there, and the Acolytes and Genoshan soldiers could concentrate on taking out as many of the death machines as possible before they were overwhelmed.

If they did not stop these things, they would simply continue to decimate the city, the whole island, as they searched out and eliminated the entire population. It was obviously a losing battle, but the fighters were giving it everything they had, using various mutant powers as well as more traditional artillery to dispatch their enemy as speedily as possible and with extreme prejudice.

To Amanda's horror, she watched as one of Magneto's guards sliced a Sentinel in half, only to have it reform itself a moment later and return the favor. "Dear God! They're reassembling themselves!"

"Yes." Magneto nodded gravely, dodging flying shrapnel as another robot exploded. "If not damaged sufficiently beyond repair, they seem to reform themselves out of whatever metal parts or machinery is available, including cannibalizing their fallen counterparts for spare parts."

"How in Gott's name are we going to fight something like this? Where did they all come from?" Kurt looked around in horror at the carnage surrounding them and knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life. What kind of monster would purposely cause such an atrocity to be committed against their fellow human beings.

But his mind answered his own question for him. As far as most of the world at large was concerned, mutant's weren't human beings. They were abominations, with no right to exist.

"Th' big one's comin' this way!" Wolverine called out behind him, jerking Kurt's attention back to the present as another familiar figure materialized out of the ground at their feet.

"Kurt!" Kitty called out as she emerged from the cobblestones. She was battered, bloody, bruised, but not seriously injured. Yet. Though she'd barely managed to phase into the ground before being overwhelmed by a dozen or so various animal-like Sentinels. "Catch!"

"Kitty?!" Kurt, Amanda, and Logan all said in surprised unison, even as Kurt snagged the sword his formerly misplaced team mate tossed him out of the air and began using it on the nearest invading metal monster.

"Danke, Katzchen." the demonic looking mutant called to her in thanks, completely in his element as he brandished the sword like the swashbuckler he was, separating Sentinels from their appendages right and left as fast as he could move or teleport.

It didn't escape Wolverine's notice that, although Kitty had taken himself, Amanda, and Kurt by surprise, Magneto didn't appear startled in the least by the appearance of their runaway Shadowcat. There would most definitely, he told himself, be some questions he was going to want answers to when this was over.

"Look, guys. No time for questions and answers right now. We've got people dying out there. If we're alive later, we'll discuss it then." Kitty quickly surveyed her team mates, noting with satisfaction that they seemed unharmed, aside from the same types of minor injuries she, herself, had sustained. It was good to have more help that she knew was well trained and not prone to abject panic at the sight of a Sentinel the size of Mount Rushmore.

But Amanda's presence in this melee concerned her.

A gout of flame suddenly poured down from the sky as Lockheed dove toward them, melting several Sentinels - ones that had gotten a little too close to his mistress for comfort - into little puddles of soggy metal, swooping and diving as he did so, dodging blaster fire and snaking projectiles being hurled at him by the Sentinels below.

"Amanda," Kitty turned to the sorceress next, assisting the other woman in doing away with a particularly tenacious Sentinel that was trying to wrap the other woman up in a catch net. "get the hell outta here. You can't fight these metal monsters. You're just gonna get killed."

"I can't do that. I won't leave the rest of you here to die." Amanda looked the younger woman over carefully - between time spent kicking at and dodging Sentinels, nets, and blaster fire - her bright blue eyes settling on the Beatrice Amulet, hanging from it's chain around her friend's neck. She could feel the evil, the malevolence emanating from the thing. As she'd suspected, the amulet was the real threat, not the Soulsword. "Give me the Amulet, Kitty. It's dangerous."

She said it calmly, though all her instincts screamed at her to reach out and snatch it away from Shadowcat, to get it as far away from the other girl as possible. But she couldn't do that. In fact, she doubted she'd even be able to touch it if Kitty didn't want her to. She would have to give it over of her own free will, and Amanda didn't really have any illusions about the odds of that happening.

"But, then, you already know that, don't you?" Kitty regarded her silently for a moment, their eyes meeting very briefly, but it showed Daytripper everything that she needed to know, everything that she'd been afraid of. "You have to get rid of it."

Almost immediately, Kitty's eyes flared bright red as her hand moved up to cover the amulet. "I don't think so."

She said it flatly, almost menacingly, and Amanda fought the urge to backpedal, to put distance between herself and this person she was fairly sure wasn't exactly their friend anymore. Logan must have sensed it too, because Amanda saw him begin to turn, his nostril's flaring as he caught Kitty's scent.

"Kitty, give it to me. Now." Amanda said firmly, hoping she wasn't signing her own death warrant as she stared back at the other girl defiantly.

"No. Not going to happen. Now, if you want to live, get out of here." When the sorceress held her ground, not moving Kitty only shrugged, her face suddenly hard, cold, flat, as she pressed her other katana into Amanda's hand. "Fine. Die then."

Without another word, and with absolutely no further warning, Kitty began to phase back into the ground, calling out to Magneto as she did. "Throw a shield up if you can. I'm going after the big one."

"Kitty, what th' hell...?"

Wolverine turned, even as Amanda realized what the young woman had in mind. "NO! Logan, stop her! Grab the amulet!"

Though she knew it would be nearly impossible for him to take it away from her, it was the only chance they had. At Amanda's command, Logan lunged for Kitty, but it was too late. His hands slipped through her and she was gone.

"What is going on here?" Erik Lensherr demanded of no one in particular, even as he acted on Kitty's request and threw an electromagnetic shield up around them and everyone else that was within his reach. Unfortunately, in shielding the people, it also brought quite a few Sentinels in with them.

"No time to explain, Herr Magneto." Kurt replied as he began hacking away at the nearest mutant-killing machine. "Just do as she said. And, if you believe in God, I suggest you pray."

It had, Wolverine realized, been only mere moments since they'd materialized in Magda square, but it seemed more like an eternity. As he began ripping into Sentinels left and right, his claws reducing them to so much junk, damaging them severely enough that they couldn't reform themselves, he tried to scan the commons, looking for Kitty.

He finally caught sight of her, farther to their left, near what appeared to be a group of children who hadn't been able to make it to cover, the Acolytes who'd been trying to help them lying dead and mutilated all around.

And looming over them, the massive, skyscraper sized Sentinel, the one that he hadn't even noticed passing them by, charged it's blasters up and prepared to fire.

* * *

"Oh...my dear Lord."

Though the words were whispered quietly, the underlying tone of incredulous horror in Rhane's soft voice snapped Peter quickly out of his daydreams and back into reality.

It only took one, short look at the scene in front of him to know what had put that ring of stunned terror into the former Were-girl's words.

They had arrived in Genosha and the entire city of Hammer Bay appeared to be going up in flames.

Even at a distance, they could see the toppled, broken buildings, the thick, black smoke rising in wide columns from the charred ruins of the once beautiful capitol city. And at least one Sentinel that was taller than anything else on the entire island nation, striding through the ruins like something out of a late night horror movie, blasting anything that moved and a lot of things that didn't.

The two X-Men only gaped for a second, however, before their training kicked in and they immediately got down to the business at hand, which was to figure out, as quickly as possible, what the hell was going on.

Hitting a sequence of buttons on the control panel, Peter called up the Runner's long range scanners, focusing on the area around the Presidential Palace and Magda Square – or what was left of it - as he scanned for signs of survivors among the rubble.

As the images coalesced on the screen, both seasoned fighters looking on blanched dead white, Rhane's complexion holding a distinctly green tinge as well.

The only words Peter had to describe the scene was carnage and ruin. There were bodies everywhere, littering the ground like so many discarded bundles of rags. Men, women, children, every age, gender, and race, none of it seemed to make any difference to the killing machines that had been sent to slaughter all these innocents.

It gave him only very slight gratification to see the remains of nearly as many Sentinels littering the ground around, in, and on Magda square. And more were falling as the battle raged on.

Peter was hard pressed to make any identifications among the fighters, they were too far away and moving too swiftly, too chaotically to keep track of. But at least there were still people alive down there. People who needed all the help they could get.

Fear and dread, at what he might find once he was on the ground, warred with rage and fury for emotional supremacy as the large man turned to his companion.

"Get me as close as you can, Rhane. As soon as I am clear, get out of here and wait for my signal. If you do not hear from me within half an hour, contact Storm and her team. Tell them what has happened."

Though everything in her wanted to argue with the large Russian, Rhane forced herself to nod, taking the controls of the Midnight Runner as they banked, preparing to make a low pass over Magda Square.

As badly as she wanted to go with him, as much as her heart was screaming out at the atrocities being perpetrated below, crying for vengeance, the Scot's girl knew she would be no match for the killing machines wreaking havoc beneath them. Without her shape-shifting powers, she had no more strength than any normal human and could never stand up against these strange, brutal Sentinels.

Taking his place at the drop hatch, Peter triggered the transformation to his metal changeform with the speed of thought, the solid black version of his formerly gold and red costume instantly adjusting to accommodate the changes as the young man immediately gained height, mass, and incredible strength. He had an idea he would need every bit of it before he was through.

"Get close to the big one, Rhane. I will try to take it out on my way down."

Rhane blinked at him uncomprehendingly, but did as he asked, taking position in a hover about a half mile above the massive Sentinel that was looming over a terrified group of what appeared to be civilians.

Before she could guide the sleek craft any lower, Peter hit the switch that lowered the drop hatch, preparing to step out.

"Peter! Are ye daft, boy?! Ye cann'a fly! I need to get lower."

"No. This is fine. I do not want to waste any more time." he replied firmly, then actually allowed himself a small smile as he moved forward. "I may not be able to fly, but I can land with the best of them."

Before she could say another word, Colossus stepped out of the plane, hurtling toward the ground, and the massive Sentinel, below.

* * *

She'd tried everything she knew to take the massive Sentinel down. Phased through it. The thing hadn't even staggered. Phased objects into it. The monster didn't even notice. Attempted to phase parts of it, namely it's leg, off of it's body. It had given her a jolt of electricity strong enough to light up Chicago.

Kitty had even, stupidly, tried to have a go at it in hand to hand combat. Very, very stupid idea. She'd barely been able to phase in time to keep it from smashing her into the ground so deep, she would have come out in the next galaxy.

All she had really succeeded in doing was giving it a target to focus on while the children and civilians sought safety, if there even was such a thing at this point. She was tiring. She knew it, and she had every idea that the thing hunting her knew it, too.

Almost as if they knew she didn't have a prayer, the smaller Sentinels weren't even bothering with her, leaving their big brother to do with her as it pleased. If she could only keep it busy until all of the children were out of the way.

Kitty dropped to the ground, rolling away barely in time to avoid a catch net, quickly followed by a wide beam of blaster fire that sent chunks of rock and earth spewing into the air. Behind her, she could hear the screams of the children, and the adults that were trying to get them to cover, but there was nothing she could do to help them, other than what she was already doing. She doubted there was anything she could do to help herself, for that matter.

The massive robot stopped, looked down at her and, again, began spewing out the only line it knew, nearly rupturing her eardrums.

"**NON-HUMAN ENTITY DETERMINED. EXECUTE."**

With a growl of rage, Kitty sprang to her feet, whirling to face the monstrosity, her face red as she began screaming at it. **"I am a hell of a lot more human than you'll damn well ever be you piece of shit, over grown, fucking, pitiful excuse for a tin can!"**

It didn't do her any good, of course, but it made her feel a damn sight better, and she charged at the thing full tilt, planning to try her hand one more time at phasing it into small, kickable pieces. She was sick to death of these damned things and one of them had to be put out of their misery. Right now, Kitty really didn't care if it was her or the Sentinel.

But, in the next moment, before she could reach her target, it was as if everything was suddenly moving in slow motion as half a dozen things all happened at once.

The Sentinel began charging up, preparing to deliver her a killing jolt as soon as she touched it. Kitty could feel the hairs on her head, arms, and the back of her neck, trying to stand on end as the voltage built, but her momentum was too great. She wasn't going to be able to stop before she hit the thing.

A noise above her caught not only **her** attention, but the attention of the metal giant before her and they both looked up in time to see a sleek, black aircraft drop into a hover pattern directly overhead.

Kitty stared, blinked, and stared some more, trying to tell herself that she couldn't possibly be seeing what she believed she was seeing. What the hell was the Midnight Runner doing here?

A few feet away, having removed himself from Magneto's shield, Logan was fighting his way towards her, taking out Sentinels left and right in a furious effort to come to her aid against the monster that only required a split second to decided that the aircraft was a negligible threat and was turning back to Kitty, moving in for the kill.

Behind her, from the general direction of the building the last group of civilians had ran into, seeking shelter, someone screamed out her name, in a voice that was oddly familiar, but that she couldn't readily place. While, at almost the exact same instant, a strong hand grabbed her arm, jerking her to the side a split second before she would have connected with the electrified Sentinel.

Before she could even turn to see who it was, her eyes were once again drawn upward, as a familiar shape covered in organic steel and black body armor dropped like a stone - or a huge, stubborn, solid metal mutant - out of the Midnight Runner and straight down toward the massive Sentinel, gathering speed at an incredible rate as he fell. He hit the steel giant on one shoulder, with such force that a sonic boom reverberated over the square, as the metal monster staggered, then quietly toppled over in a shower of sparks, burning wires, and frying circuits.

**"Peter!"**

Forgetting everything else, Kitty lunged toward the fallen Sentinel, which now was only so much scrap metal, her only thought being to get to Peter, to make sure he was all right, or at least alive. He'd impacted that thing with the force of a mountain, but the Sentinel had been fully charged, prepared to electrocute her on contact. God alone only knew what that might have done to Colossus.

It was only when she was brought up short with a violent jerk that she realized someone still had her by the arm.

She spun around, jerking her arm at the same time, trying to dislodge herself, but the grip was like iron and she couldn't break it. That was bad enough, but things only got worse as she came face to face with the owner of the hand that held her.

"Vargas." Shadowcat's voice showed not even the slightest hint of surprise as the two stared at one another, hostility rolling off the X-woman in waves as her eyes narrowed dangerously.

The strange man stood there, casually dressed, looking as if he was simply out for an afternoon stroll, completely unpreterbed by either the hell raging all around them, or by Kitty's obvious rage. And nothing, not one single Sentinel, approached within ten feet of where they stood.

"Enough of this, child. It is time you come with me and I will brook no opposition this time. If you stay here, you will surely die. And that, I cannot allow."

Kitty knew she must be gaping at him. Who, or what, the hell did he think he was? Did he seriously believe he could just walk in here, grab her, and drag her out, leaving her friends and all these people to die? He must be insane.

Bracing herself, Shadowcat prepared to fight the man. She didn't have time for this and she was certainly not going to allow him to do to her now what he had done before. For the moment, her soul, and her body, was still her own. At least mostly.

But, again, her attention was diverted, as someone, the same voice she'd heard before, yelled out her name. Again, she turned, feeling like a pinwheel, being spun in all directions at once, and all the blood drained down into her feet as she recognized the man rushing toward her across the Square.

_**Oh, God! NO! NO! Not now!**_

"Daddy!?"

Carmen Pryde, looking much as he had the last time Kitty had seen him over seven years ago, was sprinting toward her, leaving the relative safety of the building he'd been hiding in - along with about two dozen others who'd been evacuated from the square when the fighting started – and flying headlong into the thick of the battle that was still raging full tilt around them.

Kitty's brain went into overload, unable to handle the rapid fire succession of events she'd been slammed with in the last ninety seconds. Her friends were still fighting, maybe dying, and they needed her help. Peter was somewhere near that damned Godzilla Sentinel, probably injured, maybe severely. Her father, who had no way to protect himself, and who wasn't even supposed to be in Hammer Bay until tomorrow, was dashing heedlessly into the thick of the fighting in an effort to reach her. And this damned Vargas was just standing here, holding onto her as if he owned her, refusing to let her go so that she could help her friends and loved ones.

It was all too much and her rational mind just shut down, leaving her with only rage and instinct. And her instincts were telling her to free herself, whatever the cost.

With a feral scream that would have rivaled anything Logan could have produced, Kitty flew at Vargas, clawing, scratching, biting, kicking, punching, struggling violently to free herself, though she had no plans as to what she would do once that occurred.

If she'd been in her right mind, however, it would have soon become apparent to her that her efforts were having absolutely no effect on the man. He simply stood there, not even seeming to feel the blows that she rained on him, apparently sustaining no damage from her attack, as he simply continued to hold her arm tightly in his grip.

But Kitty only came back to her senses, at least partially, when her father reached them, the middle aged, balding, overweight man throwing himself bodily at Kitty's captor. She didn't even have time to shout out a warning before Vargas' arm flew out and, with seemingly very little effort, sent Carmen Pryde flying backwards with such force that Kitty heard the distinctive crack as several of his ribs broke.

**"DADDY! NO!"**

Someone was screaming, nearly hysterically, and Kitty slowly realized that it was her as she watched her father crash into a knot of animal-like Sentinels, toppling them over on impact. Later, Kitty would realize that he wouldn't even have had time to feel his injuries before the nearest Sentinel turned to him and, for all intents and purposes, vaporized him into atoms before his daughter's horrified eyes.

Then she was falling, that scream still ringing in her ears as she dimly registered, almost as if it weren't even her, that Vargas was no longer holding her. She was free, but she couldn't move. She could only curl up on the ground and scream as her mind slowly began to unravel.

* * *

Peter had only been stunned for the space of a few moments. He hadn't expected that hitting the Sentinel would be like dropping face first into an electrical substation and it had taken him by surprise.

He wasn't injured, at least not seriously, but he had been dazed. By the time he'd regained his senses, it had already been too late.

As soon as he was able, he stood, surveying the scene around him, realizing that it was even worse, seeing it up close and in person, than it had been on the scanner screen, though he wasn't really sure how that was possible.

In his peripheral vision, Colossus was vaguely aware of the battle raging around him, as Acolytes continued to battle the mass of Sentinels still wreaking havoc on Genosha. Some of them he recognized, from his time with Magneto, other's were strangers to him. But they were all fighting with everything that they had in them.

Almost absently, he registered the presence of Wolverine, Nightcrawler, and Daytripper, the former slowly working his way toward Peter's position, clawing and slicing his way through whatever got in his way, as the two latter seemed to be using Kitty's katanas to dismantle the enemy, with Nightcrawler occasionally teleporting parts of the killer robots away to various points around the Square.

And, of course, there was Magneto, in the thick of the fray, keeping a shield up around a group of civilians, trying to protect them from the death machines trying to force their way in. Even from this distance, it was obvious to Peter that the man was exhausted, working on adrenaline and sheer force of will alone. He wouldn't be able to hold that shield much longer.

But the majority of his attention had quickly focused on Kitty herself, as she struggled against a man who seemed to hold her in an unbreakable grip. Peter Rasputin had immediately known something was terribly wrong, that she was in terrible danger. Not from the Sentinels all around them, though there was that, too, but from the man who was, inexplicably, holding her captive.

He had no idea how he knew this, but he knew it just the same. Without hesitation, the Russian behemoth launched himself at the man, covering ground with surprising speed, considering his formidable size. But he hadn't been quick enough to save Kitty's father.

Before he'd closed even half the distance, he saw a sight that nearly froze him in place in absolute shock. Kitty's father, Carmen Pryde, came flying out of one of the nearby buildings, his expression one of abject terror, yelling his daughter's name and launching himself at her attacker as Kitty herself began to fight the man like a tigress.

Though he pushed himself as hard as he could, Peter reached the scene a split second too late. He watched in stunned horror as Kitty let out a scream that froze his blood and stood his hair one end, while her father went flying at what appeared, to his perceptions, a slight blow from the man that held her. In the next split second, Carmen Pryde was gone, reduced to so much dust by the Sentinels he'd crashed into, even as his death cry still rang in the air.

Less than a millisecond later, Peter slammed into the man that held Kitty, hitting him as hard as he could, not holding back as he normally would against a human foe. Something told him, instinctively, that this man was far more than what he appeared. And that he was very dangerous. Especially to Kitty.

Based on what he'd just seen, he'd been expecting more than a little resistance from the tall, foreign looking stranger. But, to his stunned surprise, he encountered none at all. In fact, as soon as he touched him, the odd man let out a howl of mingled pain and rage the likes of which Peter had never heard, a sound that rivaled the wail of torment that Kitty was still emitting from her position on the ground, curled up in a ball where she had fallen.

And then, things got really strange.

The two men slammed into the ground and Peter lost his grip on the stranger as the man scrambled away from him, his face contorted in rage, but also in fear and no little amount of pain. Before Peter could even gain his feet again, the man shot him a look that should have reduced him to slag on the spot, his eyes glowing a bright, hellish red.

Then, he simply vanished, like so much smoke, leaving no trace that he'd ever been there to begin with.

* * *

She had retreated far into her own mind, shutting out the pain, shutting out the fear, the horror, the mind numbing grief. If she didn't she would fly to pieces. There was no way she would be able to hold up under it. The weight of it was too great and there wasn't enough strength left in her.

Dimly, she was aware of the on-going sounds of battle, of the screams of the injured, the dying, the sound of small artillery fire accompanied by the louder boom of blaster fire and various explosive energy discharges by the more powerful Acolytes.

There was also the vague impression of cool stone next to her skin, of the warmth of sunlight pouring down on her, the smell of broken earth, blood, charred human flesh, burning metal, wires, and circuitry, all of it mixing together into one strange, incongruous scent that stung her nose and eyes.

And there was someone calling her name as well. A voice that she knew, the touch of a hand as familiar to her as her own.

But it was all so far away, so dim and inconsequential. She was safe here. Nothing could touch her. Nothing could hurt her anymore. As long as she stayed right here, everything was peaceful and nothing bad could happen.

No one would be dead, no one would be injured, there wouldn't be monsters hunting her and the people she loved. There wouldn't be any dead children lying on the ground like broken dolls. Her father......

None of it would be real.

If she wished for it hard enough, told herself often enough, refused to acknowledge it, then it couldn't be real. None of it would be real and the world would be right again. And everyone she loved would be ok.

But she should have known it wouldn't let her rest, wouldn't let her have a moment of peace. It never did.

It was coming. She could see it, could feel it. A pinpoint of light that grew steadily brighter. A soft, whispering voice that grew steadily louder, more insistent. It knew she was weak, that she couldn't fight it this time. It was coming for her.

Then it was there, looking at her, forcing her to look at it, forcing her to pay attention, to listen, when she didn't want to. All she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and never wake up.

The Soulsword had other ideas.

_You must wake up._

_**Go away!**_

_I cannot. You must wake up, or all is lost._

_**I don't care. Leave me alone.**_

_If you do not wake up, you will die. Everyone you love will die._

_**They already have. **_

_No. They have not. Peter is not dead. He is with you, even now. But he will die if you do nothing. Is that what you want?_

**_NO!...._** **_No. But what can I do? I fight and fight, but they just keep coming. I can't stop them._**

_I can help you, but you must call me. Neither of us can do it alone._

_**I can't do that. You know I can't do that.**_

_Then all is lost. Even now, they are being overwhelmed. The older one, the one who is both your friend and your enemy, is failing. Soon, his shields will fall, and so will he. And with him, all those he protects. _

_**But, there's too many. I can't beat them all. I can't.**_

_You can. We can. The blue one, and the one who possesses magic, they are surrounded. They cannot fight much longer. He is tired. Too tired to transport away. And she will not leave him. Soon, they, too, will fall._

_**I can't. I just can't. I'm afraid.**_

_I know you are, but you need not be. I will help you._

_**No. You won't. You're just trying to trick me, trying to use me. As you used Illyana.**_

_Think of Peter. He will not leave you. He will defend you with his dying breath. If you do not wake up, he will lose his life trying to protect you. _

_**No. Please....no. Not Peter. I couldn't stand it.**_

_Then wake up and call to me. All will be well. I promise._

_**If I do, if I call you to me, if we stop the Sentinels, will you take me away then? Away where I can't hurt them? And will you promise to leave them alone? Will you promise to leave Peter alone?**_

_Yes. If that is what you wish. But it is not necessary....._

_**But you'll do it? You'll promise me that?**_

_Yes._

* * *

The first thing she was aware of was Peter deep, accented voice, calling her name. As her eyelids fluttered open, she looked up into his handsome face, seeing the fear, the worry, and, finally, the immense relief there as she awoke.

He was holding her tightly in his arms, and it felt so right, so comforting, to be close to him again. God, how she'd missed him, even though it had only been a few days.

"How long was I out?"

"Only a moment." he replied, holding her a little tighter against his chest as a flood of relief washed through him, so strong that it nearly brought the large man to his knees. "I was afraid that you were not going to wake up. Are you all right?"

Kitty nodded, blocking out everything else around her except for him. She couldn't let the horror touch her again, couldn't let herself think about it, or about what she had to do. They only had a few, precious seconds before she had to act, and she didn't want to waste them on fear, or worry, or grief.

"I'm ok." Reaching up, she gently caressed his cheek, smiling as he leaned into her touch. "How about you? That was quite a stunt you pulled. And why aren't you armored up? We're still covered in Sentinel's here, in case you haven't noticed."

But, almost as she said it, Kitty noticed that it wasn't exactly an accurate statement. True, there were dozens of Sentinels around them, and the battle raged on just as fiercely as before, but there were none of the mutant killers in their immediate vicinity. They seemed to be treating her, and Peter, as if they didn't even exist.

And, with sudden clarity, Kitty knew that the Soulsword was responsible, that it was giving her these last few moments to prepare herself, to say good bye.

His forehead creased in puzzlement, Peter looked around them, then back down at her, shrugging his shoulders almost imperceptibly, so as not to jostle her. "It appears they are ignoring us for the moment. Though, I am sure it will not last."

"No." she replied sadly. "I'm sure it won't. Are you really ok, Peter?"

"Da. The jolt the Sentinel gave me only stunned me for a moment, but that is all. I am fine." And then his gaze came back to her face, his beautiful blue eyes filling with such pain and sorrow that she could hardly stand it . "Katya, I am so sorry....your father....I tried....."

Kitty shook her head violently, closing her eyes against the image that rose up at his words, pushing it back down, out of sight. She would deal with it later. She wasn't capable right now. "I know. But...I can't talk about it. Not now. Not without falling apart." Laying her head against his shoulder, Kitty twisted slightly in his grasp, slipping her arms around his neck. "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. I love you as well." Lowering his dark head, he kissed her gently, with such tenderness, that it made her want to weep. But she knew she didn't have time for such an indulgence. Once she stared, she doubted she'd be able to stop and there was too much left to do.

When they parted, she motioned for him to set her back onto her own two feet. He seemed somewhat reluctant to do so, but finally he did as she asked, lowering her carefully to the ground. As soon as he did so, it seemed that all of the noises, the sounds of battle around them that had been muted until now, came washing over her in a loud, chaotic rush.

But she didn't let it bother her. Kitty knew what she had to do, knew how it would all end, and she wasn't worried anymore. She was no longer afraid of what would happen to her.

As Peter watched her, his expression slightly confused, she stepped back from him, just out of his reach. That was how it had to be. What she had left to do, he couldn't help her with, though she knew he would want to try. But, in this, she was alone.

Around her, on the periphery of her consciousness, she was aware of everything that was happening in the battle, as if she were hovering above, looking down on it all from a great height.

She saw Kurt and Amanda, exhausted, bleeding, near collapse, backed against a crumbled wall of the Presidential Palace, fighting fiercely with the Sentinels that were closing in on them. She saw Magneto, his strength nearly exhausted, as he fought to maintain his steadily weakening shield, the only thing between himself, almost a hundred civilians, and over three dozen Sentinels, steadily, tirelessly, smashing against his defenses.

Kitty saw the remaining Acolytes, battered, bleeding, broken, still fighting with every ounce of strength they had left to keep the Sentinels away from the people hiding in the surrounding buildings. It was a battle they knew they were losing, but they refused to give up. They would fight as long as they drew breath.

Then, there was Wolverine, slowly, steadily, slashing and slicing his way across the commons, toward her and Peter, trying to reach them, trying to reach her. She knew she couldn't let him do that. Not this time.

And there was Rhane, hovering high above them, hidden in the clouds, waiting for word from Peter, terrified that neither he, nor any of the rest of her friends, would make it out alive. Kitty was determined that they would, whatever the cost to her, personally.

There was the massive, monster Sentinel, the one that Peter had thought he'd put out of commission. But which, in reality, was now resetting itself. Even as the the knowledge came to her, she saw it sit up, preparing to get to it's feet, to continue it's rampage of death and destruction.

Lastly, there was Lockheed, flying high overhead, tired, battered, but still going, trying to lay enough cover fire to give Amanda and Kurt a chance to escape their precarious position. It wouldn't be enough, but he was giving it all he had.

All these things, all this knowledge, came to her in an instant and she accepted it, tucked it away. Just as she'd tucked away all her feelings, all the grief, and the tears, and the fear, and the heartache. She would take them out later, if there was a later, and deal with them then.

Right now, she had more important things to do.

And Kitty knew it was time.

"Peter, will you do something for me?"

"Of course, Katya. What is it?" He was still watching her, confused, knowing that something wasn't quite right, that something was happening, but not knowing what it might be, or what he could, or should, do about it. Better that he not know until he had to.

"Call my mother. Tell her what happened to my father. Tell her that I love her."

Now, his confusion was replaced by concern and he took a step toward her, reaching out his hand to her. "Katya? I do not understand. Of course, I will, but should you not talk with her yourself?"

"I wont' be able to. I would if I could." Despite her intentions, Kitty couldn't stop the tears that began to silently slip down her cheeks as she took another step back from him, her eyes never leaving his. "I love you, Peter. I always will. Please remember that. Now, armor up, because I'm not sure what's going to happen." Then, almost as an afterthought, she smiled a little, though the tears kept flowing. "And, please, take care of Lockheed for me. He'll need you."

Peter's expression turned from puzzled concern to one of shock and he opened his mouth to speak, started toward her in earnest this time, fear for her lending him speed. But Kitty neither saw, nor heard him any longer. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, picturing the Soulsword, glowing brightly amidst it's pure, white light.

And she said the words she'd been fighting for months.

_**I call you to me. I take you up. Of my own choice and of my own free will.**_

When she opened her eyes, it was there, waiting for her. Immediately, she reached out for it, vaguely aware of Peter, shouting at her, of Logan redoubling his efforts to reach her, of Amanda, screaming something from across the commons, of Kurt, summoning strength born of a panic more fierce than even the Sentinels could engender, teleporting himself and Amanda, knowing he was coming to her. And of Lockheed, turning and flying at her as fast as he could go, screeching in fear and anguish. But none of it mattered. It was as good as done.

Kitty stretched out her hand, her fingers curling around the Soulsword, the hilt molding perfectly to her palm, making it a part of her, bonding with it totally and completely, holding nothing back, opening herself to the power that was flowing through and around her. The sheer scope of it was unlike anything she had ever imagined.

It poured into her, filling her with a bright, white light, with a power that went beyond the human language's ability to describe it, that was so far beyond her comprehension that she wondered at being able to contain it all without it flowing from her like water. And in her mind, in her heart, the power of the Soulsword sang to her.

As she opened her eyes, felt herself lifting high into the air on wings of incandescent light, Kitty heard the song echoed back to her from two different directions, felt the pure, raw energy flowing from her very pores.

And she wondered, briefly, absently, if this was how Rachel felt when she became the Phoenix.

* * *

As he finally realized what she was about to do, Peter yelled out her name, triggering his changeform even as he lunged toward her. But he quickly found that he couldn't get within arm's reach of where she stood. It was as if a barrier, a shield, had gone up around her, preventing anyone from interfering in what was happening.

He heard Amanda scream out and he believed she was talking to him, saying something about an amulet, but there was nothing he could do.

Peter could only watch helplessly as Kitty called the Soulsword to her, reaching out as it appeared in front of her, taking it up, bonding it to her.

He watched as her eyes began to glow, red at first, then changing to an incandescent white as she was engulfed in a radiant light. It would have been beautiful had he not known that she had just sacrificed her own soul to save their lives.

Yes, he knew exactly why she had done it, just as he had known the man who had accosted her earlier had been far more than he appeared. And Peter would have rather laid down his own life than for her to do this.

Beside him, Kurt and Amanda appeared in a cloud of smoke and sulfur, leaping for Kitty and encountering the same barrier as Peter, spouting a stream of what the younger man was sure were curses in German as the blue furred mutant and the former Queen of Limbo pushed against the invisible shield.

Logan reached them a moment later, also crashing against the unseen wall, as Kitty began to rise into the air on what could only be described as wings of light, her long, chestnut hair billowing out around her in a silky cloud. And all around them, the Sentinels, including the large one, the one that Peter hadn't even realized had reactivated only a few feet behind him, stopped what they were doing and came to a complete standstill.

As if they were answering a call only they could hear or understand, they robots turned as one, looking directly at Kitty. Peter felt a sharp, bright stab of fear as he understood what was happening and prayed that he was wrong. But, in his heart, he knew that he wasn't.

Somehow, Kitty was calling them to her, giving them a target so tempting that they couldn't resist it. She was luring them to their destruction. Most likely, at the cost of her own life. At the very least, at the cost of her soul.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the barrier vanished and Logan charged toward Kitty, claws extended, lunging for her, but he simply passed through her, falling to his knees on the cobblestones as they all watched her ascend. And with her, the Sentinels, their rockets firing as they propelled themselves upward. Moths, drawn to the flame.

Almost as one, the dozens and dozens of mutant hunters that were still functional took to the air, following the glowing girl holding the sword. For a long moment, Kitty seemed to hover, high above, as, below her, those who loved her could only watch in helpless horror, waiting for the end.

She hung there, biding her time, as the Sentinels closed on her, seemingly unafraid, her face peaceful, serene. And Peter thought to himself that, regardless of what evil the Soulsword might possess, Kitty looked like nothing so much as an angel at that moment.

Strangely, that made him think of Illyana, of the way Rhane had described her at the end of Inferno, an angel of light, sacrificing herself to save those she loved. And he understood that Kitty was doing the same, was making the only choice that she could. But it didn't stop his heart from breaking as he watched it happen.

When the Sentinels were only a few feet from her, when her death seemed imminent, the light surrounding Kitty suddenly pulsed so brightly that all on the ground were temporarily blinded, forced to shield their eyes from the glow that seemed to rival the heart of a star.

There was no sound, no explosions, no crash. Nothing at all. Just light and silence.

When their eyes cleared, when they were able to see again, those left on the ground looked up to where Kitty had been, but she was gone. And so were the Sentinels. The sky was completely clear, except for a fine, powdery dust that seemed to be falling all around them.

Holding out his hand, Peter caught a few of the tiny grains, bringing them close to his face, studying them closely, curiously. Instead of dust, he found the powdery residue to be fine, powdery, flakes of metal. The Sentinels had disintegrated, reduced to nothing more than powder, without even the slightest noise to mark their passing.

What kind of power, what level of force, would it take to do such a thing? But the question was redundant. Peter knew the kind of power it would take, had seen it happen before, with horrible, tragic consequences.

Until now, he had believed, they had all believed, that there was only one force in the universe capable of something of this magnitude. Obviously, they had been very wrong. The thought was staggering. And terrifying.

The world came rushing back then, as Peter realized that Kitty was gone. Permanently. He would never see her again. Whether she was dead or alive, she would never again be the girl, the woman, he had known. The pain that thought brought with it was so powerful that it took his legs from under him and he sat down hard on the battered cobblestones of Magda Square, not even noticing when Lockheed, distraught and grief-stricken, landed on his shoulder and wrapped himself miserably around Peter's neck, whimpering softly.

A few feet away, Logan had evidently come to the same conclusion as his Russian team mate. The girl who was like his own child was gone, lost to them. He had failed her. When she had needed him most, he wasn't there to help her.

The feral mutant stared up into the sky, his eyes locked onto the last place Kitty had been, staring at it as if he could bring her back with nothing more than the force of his will alone. Still kneeling on the hard stone, eyes clamping shut as tears coursed down his cheeks, face twisted in a mask of grief, the Wolverine let out a howl of rage and pain the likes of which no living person there had ever heard, the eerie sound echoing through the rubble and destruction that had once been Genosha's capital city of Hammer Bay, seeming to repeat endlessly into the now silent day.

* * *

Rachel Summers exited the Liberal Arts building, heading the back way, across the soccer field, to her next class, which happened to be one of her favorites. Advance Fashion Design.

Who would have ever thought that she'd not only like to wear and shop for clothes, but design and make them as well? It had definitely been a surprise to her.

As a warm, breeze brushed over her, gently lifting her long, flame red, tresses to dance around her face, she laughed lightly, her green eyes sparkling. She loved California, loved the perpetually sunny, cheerful weather, loved the little college with it's interesting classes and neat little dorms, loved the other students, who had been so nice to her, who had gone out of their way to make friends with her.

Rachel even loved being out here, on her own, for the first time in her life. It had been so long, so many years, since she could say that she was happy, but she could say it now. And she could mean it.

There was only one thing missing, only one other thing that could have made it perfect. But that would come in time. It wouldn't be much longer now. It couldn't.

Carefully, she stepped onto the bright, fresh, green grass of the soccer field, making her way across it's width toward the low, sprawling building only a few hundred feet away.

The carpet of close-cropped blades was soft and springy under her feet, and she stopped near the middle of the field, kicking off her flat-heeled shoes to sink her toes briefly into the moist, cool grass, smiling to herself. She even loved this grass.

She was still smiling when the soft call came to her, brushing at the edges of her mind, and she went very still, cocking her head slightly to one side, as if listening to a voice only she could hear, her smile widening.

After a moment, she closed her eyes, happily summoning the force of nature that was as familiar to her as her own name.

When it came to her, she embraced it wholeheartedly as she suddenly seemed to be wreathed in fire. The time had come more quickly than she had expected, but she didn't mind.

The corona of golden-red light seemed to blaze up from within her, surrounding her shapely frame as it slowly formed into a bright, glowing bird of pure, cosmic, energy and power.

Raising her face toward the sky, the reborn Phoenix took to the air.

* * *

Opening her refrigerator door, Illyana Rasputin stood there, cold air wafting over her as she pushed at stray lock of golden blonde hair that was tickling her nose and stared morosely into her icebox.

It was dinner time, and she had no idea what she wanted, so she'd decided to simply stand here and stare at the contents of her refrigerator until something jumped out at her.

Though, considering that she hadn't cleaned the darn thing out in a while, maybe "jump out at" wasn't the best turn of a phrase. From the looks of the contents of a couple of containers, that might be a very real possibility. Some of it seemed to have attained sentient life.

The habit of prolonged refrigerator perusal had been with her since childhood, and her brother used to chide her for it constantly, but she just couldn't seem to stop doing it. After all, how was she supposed to know what she wanted if she couldn't see it?

Peter had never quite seen the logic in that question, but it seemed imminently sensible to her.

The last few days, it seemed she'd been thinking of him almost constantly, but she really shouldn't be surprised, under the circumstances. The time was quickly approaching when she would return home again, would revisit the places where his memory was so strong.

At least, she hoped she would.

As she often did, Illyana wondered how things were in the world she had left, how things might have changed, what might have stayed the same. Just as she wondered about Kitty, the girl who had been closer to a sister to her than she was a mere friend. She was anxious to see how her friend had fared, to see what kind of woman she had become.

If she could have, she would have kept a check on her, but her magic didn't work that way. Though scrying spells were simple enough, they couldn't reach between dimensions, at least they couldn't right now. So, for the last seven years, she'd been completely cut off, by her own choice, from the world she used to know.

She missed them all, Kitty, the survivinig X-Men, the New Mutants, had missed them for a very long time, but what she'd done had been for the best. There were things she'd had to come to terms with, things she'd had to learn, and she'd needed the time and space to do that.

So many things she'd believed to be true had turned out to be completely wrong, and the young Russian woman had not had an easy time of it, of dealing with the fact that nearly everything that she'd believed about herself, that almost everything she'd been told, since she'd been a small child, had all been a lie.

In those last moments of Inferno, the entire foundation of her life, everything that she'd believed to be true about herself from the time she was six years old, had been knocked out from under her. Now, looking back, she couldn't understand why she hadn't seen it all along, hadn't understood what was happening and why. It was hard for her to believe that she'd almost let the lies, the deception, destroy her and everyone that she loved.

Of course, that had been his plan all along. To plant the seeds of distrust, deception, and fear. To tear the circle apart from within, so that it would never be able to reform. He had succeeded before, many times, over many, many years. Had very nearly succeeded then and might yet, still, depending upon what happened in the near future. But, to a large extent, it was out of her hands, now.

She had left to fight her personal battle, her personal demons, and she'd had to do it alone. The others would have to do the same. In the end, each one was alone, each one would have to face the worst within themselves and overcome it, would have to learn to trust their own heart, their own instincts, to show them the right path. Before they could all come together as a whole, they would have to persevere as individuals.

And she hoped that Kitty would have the insight that she, herself, had lacked. Though, in her own defense, she had been very young. Just as they all had been.

Long ago, Illyana had come to terms with her brother's death, had come to understand that what she'd been shown during Inferno hadn't been Peter, but simply another attempt to decieve her, an illusion to further weaken her and keep her from discovering the truth. Because, if her brother had, indeed, still been alive, she wouldn't have been able to do what she'd needed to do, she wouldn't have been able to leave him. She'd been so young, and had needed him so very much.

She had accepted that Peter wasn't coming back, that he was gone for good. Though a part of her heart and soul would always be missing without him, Illyana had made peace with his loss. But it still made her a little wistful to think back on those days, so long ago, when they'd still been such children, when they'd all been together, Peter, Kitty, herself, and she couldn't help yearning for them, just a little.

With any luck, she would be seeing her best friend again in the very near future. And she fervently hoped that, after she heard her story, they would still be on speaking terms. That Kitty would understand why she'd had to do what she'd done. And that her friend could forgive her, that they could all come together to finish this, once and for all.

With a sigh, Illyana closed the refrigerator door, finding nothing that caught her interest, and proceeded to one of the overhead cabinets. As she'd done with the refrigerator, she opened the nearest door and stared inside, hoping for inspiration. None seemed forthcoming.

She was still staring into the open cupboard when she heard the call, not a physical sound, and not exactly a mental one, either. Perhaps the best description would be a mixture of those two, as well as something almost...spiritual.

Illyana blinked, sighed, and closed the cupboard door, turning from the tiny little kitchen in her small, but neat and comfortable, little apartment and striding toward her bedroom.

Going directly to the bookshelf across from the foot of her bed, she pulled the ancient book from it's place, holding it in both her hands. Closing her eyes, she concentrated for a moment as the book began to glow with a blue-white light. Soft, at first, then becoming steadily brighter, until it was glowing like a star, as was she.

Slowly, it almost seemed to melt into the young woman's hands, becoming a part of her, until she had absorbed both the leather-bound volume as well as the almost incandescent flicker of blue-white fire that it had contained.

As she opened her eyes, Illyana Rasputin allowed herself a small smile. It had come more quickly than she'd anticipated, but she was ready.

Though she'd not used the power in many, many years now, it came as naturally to her as breathing. With little more than a wish, a round teleportation circle of glowing, yellow light appeared a few feet away on her bedroom floor.

Standing, the girl called Magik took one last look around, then stepped into the shining disk and disappeared.

At last, she was going home.

* * *

**To my reviewers: **You guys are just the absolute best. You'll never know how much I appreciate the support and encouragement you've given me. I got 8 reviews this time! (Does happy dance around computer.)

**Kirayoshi: **As you saw, our heroes sure didn't get much of a chance to slow down this chapter. But, don't worry, they'll get some down time eventually. Whether or not they'll still be sane enough to enjoy it might be an entirely different matter. Sorry for the Peter free chapter in 15, but he got some time in this one (though I doubt he was very happy about it) and should be around for all the rest from now on. I didn't catch the 'Christ' reference before I'd uploaded the chapter. I'll probably go back and change it later since it is rather OOC for Kitty. Her star of David is still around, though she's not wearing it right now. Don't want it contaminated by that darn amulet.

**T.A. Pixiestix:** I'm sure you've noticed by now that I'm prone to cliffhangers. A bad habit, I know, but I can't seem to help it. And, yes, you made perfect sense to me. Glad you liked the characterization of Magneto. Way back when, he wasn't just an evil, cackling villain. He was really a lot more of a gray area character and not a bad man. Just misguided. And I really liked him then. Besides, we already have a perfectly usable evil, easy to hate, villain for this thing already. Can't figure out how to get the cookies here either. Oh, well. What can I say. We all love Wolvie. How can we not? My biggest pet peeve with the X-Men movie was that I thought they should have used Kitty's character instead of Rogue's, because that's really the relationship the movie is based on. It's hard to form an opinion of a character when her only screen time is of her screaming and running through a wall in her nightgown. Hope the Sentinel info helped.

**Lia Fail:** Made myself nostalgic for the old Magneto, too. Miss him a lot. Don't really know who the person was they were calling Magneto there at the last. I prefer to believe that he was some sort of pod person and that the real Magneto is hiding out somewhere in abject embarrassment. Your review had me going back and pulling out my X-Men annual to read that story with the X-babies and I laughed my head off. I really loved how Peter was carrying around little Kitty everywhere they went. I was hoping Lockheed's appearance would be a surprise. Glad it worked. I figured, as rough a time as she's had in this fic, and as much as it's only gonna get worse before it gets better, she deserved a little something to compensate. And...well...we sorta had a Kitty/Peter reunion scene this chapter, but I have a feeling it probably wasn't exactly what you had in mind. I'll try to do better later.

**B: **I couldn't resist a really good Magneto moment. Especially after what they did to the poor man in the comics. They left him no dignity at all and he had been such a good character, and a really interesting villain, for so long. It made me very sad. I can understand a more one dimensional Magneto in Evo, being that it's a cartoon. I couldn't understand it in the movie version. What he did to Rogue in X-1 was, IMHO, way out of character for him.

**Brainfear: **I couldn't possibly shoot you. If I did, how would you ever know how all this ends up? Glad you're enjoying the ride. Hope you'll hang around for the rest of the journey. It should be interesting.

**Heroes for ghosts:** Heheheh (cackles evilly and rubs hands together) I have lured in a Kete. Seriously, though, I'm glad you like the fic. And I understand about your Kitty/Pete obsession. I have read many Kete fics, but Kitty/Piotr has always been my first love. Probably because my very first X-Men comic was #139, where Kitty officially joins the X-Men. I went through the whole romance and breakup thing with them and have been hooked ever since. As for Pete Wisdom, just let me say that I feel your pain for what Ben Raab did to him when he took over from Ellis. It was just sad. As for whether Kitty and Pete did it, I tend to believe they probably did, but I needed for her to be a virgin for the purposes of this fic. But you're right. Claremont has no room to talk. And hang in there, I think we'll be visiting someone in a chapter or two that you might be interested in.

**Random Reader:** Glad you found my little fic. And Great works just fine for me, thank you. Don't think you're alone. There are several fictional character that I miss on a regular basis. Peter Rasputin being chief among them. Really glad you like the characterization of Kitty. That's important to me. I want he to be believable. Fear not. I do not abandon fics once I start them. I'm obsessive that way. I look forward to Astonishing X-Men during reload, specifically because Joss Whedon will be writing Kitty. I have such high hopes. I'm not particularly thrilled with her fellow cast members, especially Emma Frost, but I'll cope. I'm just hoping that maybe Joss can do for Piotr what he did for Buffy and raise him from the dead. Where's Willow when you need her?

**Araya-Michiru: **Yep, Kitty needed all the happy she could get before this chapter, cause things have gone from bad to horrible. But we love Lockheed and couldn't leave him out forever. Now, he and Peter can brood together until I can get everyone back in the same time zone again. Magneto used to be a fairly normal person, even a nice, good person. He saved Kitty and Peter's lives after the Morelock Massacre and stopped in the middle of battle once when he thought he'd accidentally killed Kitty. He just picked her up and cried over her. That is not something an evil man does. But you'd never know it from the way he was portrayed in the comics the last few years.

* * *

**Coming Soon: **Ok, if chapter 16 hasn't sent you screaming from your computer in horror, join us next time for chapter 17. We'll find out where Kitty disappeared to, where Rachel and Illyana will show up, and drag a whole bunch of really unhappy mutants, and one dragon, back to Muir Island. And we'll have a surprise guest. I've been giving you hints. Do you know who it will be?


	17. Homecomings

**Disclaimer: **Nope, still don't own any X-Men. Phooey. No money, either.

**A/N: **This chapter is shorter than normal. Actually this is only about two thirds of the chapter I had planned, but I'm at a place where things begin to get complicated and I'm sorta stuck trying to work out all the details. So, what was supposed to be one chapter will now be two. Let me apologize in advance for how this one stop, but it was the best I could do. More should be coming soon.

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Homecomings**

Suddenly, she was standing in her hotel room, though she wasn't quite sure exactly how she'd gotten there.

One moment, she'd been high in the air, infused with a brilliant, white light, surrounded by Sentinels. Watching, waiting, as they drew closer and closer.

In the next moment, the power, the light, hadn't so much pulsed as flowed from her, in a blinding, almost gentle wave. The Sentinels had turned to dust less than a second later. And she'd left, coming straight here.

The thing was, she wasn't quite certain just how that particular transport had occurred.

Oh, she remembered everything well enough, down to the most minute detail. If she closed her eyes and thought about it, it would come to her as clearly as if she were still there. So, it wasn't a problem of not being able to remember.

It was a problem of having no words, in any language she knew, that would describe how she'd gotten from the sky over Magda Square to her hotel room in less than the blink of an eye. The closest she could come was to say that she had somehow gone.....**between.** Almost like stepping through a curtain.

Things, it seemed, had changed for her. In more ways than one.

Kitty knew, after what she'd just been through, after what had just happened, she should be awed, she should be terrified, she should be grief stricken. She should probably be at least a little hysterical. But she was none of those things.

There was nothing left of anything she'd felt before, when she'd been fighting the Sentinels, when she'd seen Peter jump out of the Midnight Runner, or when she'd seen her father killed. She could think about any of it, as much as she wanted, without associating any feelings at all with the images. Almost as if those events had happened to someone else.

Though she could remember the feelings, remember having them at the time, Kitty couldn't actually **feel **them anymore. She was an emotional black hole, feeling nothing at all. Hadn't since just after she'd called the sword.

She wondered if she ever would again.

Maybe that's what happened when you lost your soul. If so, it might not be such a bad thing. She was rather certain that any feelings she might otherwise have right now wouldn't be particularly pleasant. Just as well if she didn't have to experience them.

But where, exactly, did that leave her, now?

With a sigh, Kitty surveyed the room, noting the shattered windows, the glass strewn about on nearly every surface. There were chunks of plaster missing from the ceiling, lying in white, chalky pieces over the bed, the dresser, the little table, the floor. And a few new cracks on a couple of the walls.

All in all, considering that the entire island had been on the verge of annihilation mere moments ago, things here didn't look too bad. In fact, other than the broken windows, the room wasn't in much worse shape than when she'd left it. She doubted the management would even bother to do any repairs, other than replace the glass.

It wasn't exactly a room she was going to miss. Not in the least.

With swift efficiency, Kitty moved around the small space, gathering up her things, shaking off the plaster dust and stray glass shards as she went. Not bothering with neatness or order, she just snatched up whatever was handy, her laptop, the diaries, her few clothes that she'd brought with her, what other odd and end personal effects were scattered around - including her passports and credit cards - stuffing everything haphazardly into her duffle bags.

It only took her a very few minutes to pack it all up and be ready to leave, though she wasn't exactly sure where she was going. But anywhere should be better than here.

She'd been almost surprised when she hadn't materialized in Limbo. It had been what she was expecting. After all, wasn't she it's mistress now? Wasn't it her duty to defend the mystical dimension against all comers?

Perhaps the Soulsword had other plans for her, though she couldn't imagine what they might be. At the moment, she didn't really care. She'd just lost everything she'd ever cared about in her life and she couldn't muster even the slightest emotion about that fact, good or bad. What did it really matter what happened to her now?

Straightening up, the young woman known as Shadowcat dropped the last of her toiletry articles into her bag and stared at her own reflection in the cracked dresser mirror, looking back at herself critically.

She didn't see anything to get excited about. Just an ordinary woman with long, wavy hair. A slim, slightly heart-shaped, face with a chin that she'd always thought to be just a little too pointed. Eyes that were just a little too wide, and, at the moment, glowing that bright, flame red. Even with that they were still flat, dead, like empty holes. And her body that was so slender it bordered on skinny, with none of the ample curves that every one of the other X-women seemed to possess. Definitely nothing special.

So, why did all these things keep happening to her?

Things like the Soulsword.....and the Bloodstone Amulet.

It hung from her neck on it's thick, gold chain, resting just above the tops of her breasts, glowing dully in the harsh, overhead light.

It was actually a very lovely piece, ancient, well crafted, intricate in it's detail, with the balancing scales standing out in relief on the background of radiating lines. Such a harmless looking thing. Yet, twice today, within the span of only a couple of hours, she'd been told by two different people that the amulet was dangerous, evil.

Kitty wondered if they truly had any idea of the real definition of the word.

Of course, she knew it was dangerous. Had always known it. Illyana had told her exactly what would happen if the other two Bloodstones were ever set into place. Hell would come to earth and the Inferno would seem as nothing. The portals would open and dimensions would merge for all time.

Armageddon, in the most Biblical sense of the word.

Taking it into her palm, Kitty held the amulet up closer to her face, studying it carefully. Illyana was gone. Had been gone for a very long time now. And no amount of wishing in the world would ever bring her back. With the young, Russian girl's passing, the legacy of the Soulsword and the Bloodstone Amulet had passed to Kitty. They were now her burden to bear and it was far past time that she began taking responsibility for them.

After all, she had nothing else left to loose. Katherine Anne Pryde was gone for good. Everything that young woman had ever stood for, had ever wanted or dreamed of, had disappeared in that blinding, white light, along with the Sentinels. Only so much dust now, and she couldn't even mourn for the loss.

In place of the person, the woman, she had been, could have been, was someone she didn't know, a power she wasn't sure that she could even hope to control. A life she had no idea what to do with.

Letting the amulet drop, Kitty once again looked into the mirror, searched her own face, looking for answers, for clues to what her next move should be.

Naively, she'd believed, once she called the sword, her path would be set, there would be no more decisions to be made, that things would be out of her hands and she would just follow where the Soulsword led. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

Instead of Limbo, she'd come here, back to this room, but she couldn't stay. She couldn't chance Logan, Kurt, or Peter finding her. So, where was she supposed to go, what was she supposed to do?

Maybe she should try to go to Limbo. It seemed like the only logical answer at the moment. Obviously, if Amanda was here, then there was no one there, watching over things. And it was her duty. Now, and for all time.

_Not yet._

Abruptly, the Soulsword broke into her thoughts, it's voice quiet, but holding a firm conviction that immediately drew her attention.

_**Why? Isn't that where I'm supposed to be, now? Isn't that the whole reason you came to me in the first place?**_

_No._

Understandably, that answer surprised her. If the sword didn't want her for Limbo, didn't want her for that demonic dimension, then what was the purpose of all that had happened? Had she given it all up for nothing?

Closing her eyes, Kitty let the image of the Soulsword fill her mind, connecting to it, as she sought answers.

_**Tell me the reason, then. I think I deserve to know at least that. **_

_The answers you seek are within you, but are hidden, blocked. Before you can understand the truth, the blinders must be removed. For that, you will require aide._

_**Aide from who? Or what?**_

In answer an image swam into her mind, a face Kitty knew well, with it's distinctive, electric blue eyes and thick, black hair. Accompanying it was one of the quatrains from the diaries. One she only now began to understand.

_Amidst death and the raging fire of the Hunters,_

_It is at last called forth in despair._

_The Books must be gathered, _

_To their known number, add one._

_The Knowledge shall guide,_

_An ally in Wisdom._

_The Keeper awakens,_

_Seeking the Champion._

And, just like that, it became clear. It was so simple. Why hadn't she seen it before?

Kitty quickly gathered her bags, then, with no more than a thought, summoned the Soulsword and asked it one final question.

_**Can you take me there?**_

As had happened over the skies of Genosha such a short time before, the young mutant seemed to fade, disappearing into thin air as if she'd never been.

* * *

Within the sprawling mansion of Professor Charles Xavier things were almost eerily quiet on this warm, early spring afternoon. In fact, it was quieter now than it had been in all the years since it's owner had begun to collect, house, and train the first group of young mutants that had eventually evolved into the X-Men.

The reason for all this peace and quiet was quite simple, really. For the first time in nearly two decades, there wasn't a team of X-Men in residence. In fact, unbeknownst to the absent Professor, the X-Men, as a team, as a unit, were no more.

Illyana Rasputin, however, had no way to know this. She had no way to know that her brother was still alive, no way to know of the drama that was playing out in Genosha, of all the things that had befallen her older brother and her best friend in the past weeks.

She was simply operating on the information she did have, going to the most logical place she could think of, knowing that she needed to find Kitty.

Events had finally taken place, after untold centuries of waiting, that had set the wheels in motion. But there was no way for her to know exactly what those events were, or what they had left yet to do. She would only know that once she found her friend. And the books.

Though she had some information, probably more than anyone else involved in this save one, Illyana didn't have nearly all the information. That would be contained within the diaries. When they were finally brought together, along with the book she possessed, only then would all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

The teleportation circle opened and Illyana stepped out of the golden light into a place she hadn't set eyes on in over seven years. As the ring of light automatically closed behind her, she looked around the rec room of Professor Charles Xavier's mansion, her deep blue eyes taking in every detail.

For the most part, it looked - surprisingly and comfortingly - much the same as it had the last time she'd been here. The furniture was newer and so was the TV. But the big, multi-colored rug in the middle of the floor was the same one they'd all rolled around on countless times in the past, the walls were the same neutral beige that she remembered.

It even smelled the same, redolent of lemony furniture polish and the faint, lingering scent of stale popcorn, from scores of nights spent watching movies or TV and munching on a huge bowl full of the crunch, fluffy snack. If she looked long enough, she could easily see herself, Kitty, Piotr, and Doug, as they'd all been nearly a decade before, sprawled out on the couch and the floor, watching some lame movie on TV, throwing popcorn at one another, and laughing like the children they'd been.

Children, with gifts and responsibilities unlike any other, but children, none the less. Certainly, they hadn't felt like children at the time, but the distance of time gave her a slightly different perspective, and she realized how very young, how very child-like they'd all truly been.

Kitty would be on the sofa, pretending indifference to the fact that Peter was sitting beside her, but all the while, she'd be inching closer and closer to him. Doug would be sprawled out on the floor, pretending not to watch them, or to be jealous of Kitty's feeling's for her older team mate. Peter would be pretending not to notice how close Kitty was to him, or the fact that she wasn't exactly a little kid anymore, or that Doug practically drooled every time he looked at her, now.

And Illyana would be pretending not to notice any of it, while she watched a crappy movie and tried not to laugh out loud at how hard her friends and older brother were trying not to acknowledge the obvious.

God, she missed those days, missed Piotr, and Doug, and Kitty and all the rest of the X-Men and the New Mutants. Missed the all too short, precious, time they'd all had together before everything had started going so wrong.

Before Kitty and Peter had been so seriously injured, nearly killed, by the Marauders during the Morelock Massacre. Before Doug was killed by that madman, the Ani-mator. Before nearly all the X-Men had died in Dallas. Before she'd nearly let the darkness take her.

But now, if she could find Kitty, if they could do what needed to be done, then they would have a chance to push the darkness back into the pit, where it belonged, once and for all. Where it could never again destroy the innocence of youth.

And maybe, just maybe, they could recapture a little of that happiness from before. It wouldn't be exactly the same as it had been. It couldn't be, but at least it would be something.

Brushing her fingertips across her cheek, Illyana wiped away the few tears that were tracing a narrow trail down her face, sniffling a little as she did so. Then, taking a deep breath and bracing herself - for what would, at the very best, be a reunion accompanied by a lot of tears and lengthy, complicated explanations, or, at worst, a long afternoon and night filled with anger, hurt feelings, and recriminations – the young Russian woman turned toward the hallway, intending to go in search of whoever might be home at the moment.

It was time to get this show on the road.

Stepping out into the hallway, she felt almost like she'd never left as she walked the few paces toward the main staircase that would take her toward the girls dorm. Illyana didn't know if Kitty would be here, or if she might still be on Muir, or somewhere else completely different, but this was as good a place as any to start.

Because her thoughts were on other concerns, her attention otherwise occupied, Illyana didn't register the sound of footsteps, the clack of high heels beating a rapid staccato on the polished wood floor, coming from the opposite direction. Nor did she notice the presence of the statuesque, platinum blonde headed her way, cell phone plastered to her ear as she engaged in a heated conversation with the party on the other end.

So engrossed were they in their own affairs, that neither woman noticed the other until the two had collided in the middle of the foyer.

As the cellphone clattered to the parquet floor, Emma Frost's head snapped up, ice blue eyes blazing with irritation and annoyance, as she prepared to verbally flay whoever had been clumsy and rude enough to nearly knock her off her feet. But the scorching remark she'd been about to snap out died in her throat as she looked into the face of a girl long dead.

It was nearly impossible, most times, to take the White Queen by surprise. Her power and skill as a telepath were nearly without equal. But she'd been busy arguing with Charles, sure that, other than herself, the mansion was empty, so she hadn't been bothering to scan. A few seconds later, she was rather regretting that lapse as she barely had time to take a breath, let alone recover from her shock, before Illyana struck out.

The Russian woman gaped, her dark blue eyes going wide in shock, followed immediately by a quick, bright rage, at seeing the White Queen of the Hell Fire Club inside the home of the X-Men. Reacting on pure, primal instinct, she lashed out with the strongest burst of magical force she could muster, hitting Emma squarely in the chest before she even had time to think of shielding herself.

The older woman went flying backwards across the foyer, slamming into the far wall and slumping to the floor, dazed and barely conscious. Illyana had no intention of allowing her time to recover.

She'd dealt with this woman too many times in the past and she knew exactly how dangerous she was. There would be time later, when she could find the X-Men, to find out how and why Frost was here. Right now, her main concern was to put the formidable telepath out of commission long enough to figure out what the hell was going on.

Just as Emma began to stir, Illyana reached her, grabbing a handful of platinum blonde hair, and pulling back with her fist to deliver the knock out punch. However, before she could land the blow aimed squarely at the White Queen's aquiline nose, a concussive explosion erupted at her feet, sending her stumbling back and causing her to lose her grip on the other woman.

Whirling around, eyes blazing a bright blue-white, mass of golden blonde hair fanning out around her, Magik caught sight of a tall, attractive man with dark brown hair and unusual red on black eyes, standing just inside the front doorway. He was dressed casually - in jeans, a blue sweater, and a tan trench coat - holding a playing card which seemed to be glowing, leading her to assume that he had been the originator of the aforementioned explosion.

"Now, now, cher. I know de White Queen, she be annoyin' as hell sometimes, but I can' just let you go bashin' her face in, much as she probably deserves it. Not without good reason, anyway, non?"

Backing up against the bottom handrail post of the staircase, taking up a defensive position, Illyana's gaze shifted between this strange newcomer with the, apparently, French accent and Emma Frost, trying to keep an eye on both of them while her mind raced through attack and defense options.

This was insane. What in God's name had happened here while she was gone?

"Who the hell are **you**? And where are the X-Men?"

Her demand seemed to surprise the stranger and he shot her a puzzled look, one dark eyebrow arched quizzically, while still holding that glowing card. After studying her for a moment, he seemed to decide he should answer and he had just opened his mouth to speak when another figure pushed past him, shoving him out of the way almost casually as she ran though the door, obviously braced for a fight.

As soon as the woman caught sight of Illyana, however, she came to a screeching halt and the two women stared at one another in stunned incredulity. This newcomer, at least, was someone that Illyana recognized, but she was no less surprised to see her than she had been to see the White Queen.

The emerald green eyes, the thick auburn hair with the white stripe down the middle, the attractive face with it's strong features, all of it was unmistakable.

Rogue.

But she was supposed to be dead. Just as dead as Peter.

"Illyana?!" Rogue stammered in amazement, just as thoroughly shocked as the younger woman, as she took in the scene before her. Emma, sprawled on the foyer floor, slumped against one wall, trying to shake the cobwebs out of her head. Gambit, coming up close behind her, still holding that charged playing card, just in case. And then there was the young woman standing in front of her.

The southern woman couldn't help gaping at the tall, shapely blonde standing backed against the Newell post, steeled for a fight. This couldn't be right. That couldn't possibly be Illyana Rasputin, the elder version. But, if it wasn't, it was a damned good imitation.

"Rogue?!" Illyana seemed just as stunned to see her, all the blood seeming to drain from her face in a rush, leaving her deathly pale. "Is that you? Really you?"

"What de hell?" Remy finally spoke up, looking from his girlfriend to the striking blonde plastered against the stair railing - the one Rogue had just addressed as Illyana - his face a mask of complete and total incomprehension. "How can dat be Illyana. She was just a little kid...."

"Oh, God." Suddenly, Illyana's whole body relaxed as a glimmer of understanding suddenly hit her and she realized what must have happened. Bonelessly, she flopped down hard onto the bottom stair step, dropping her head into her hands. "Damn. How the hell did this happen? Damn. Damn, damn, damn."

"What?" both Rogue and Gambit asked in unison, still watching this newcomer warily, Remy out of inbred suspicion of strangers, and Rogue in a state of shock, not daring to believe that this woman could actually be who she seemed. And neither of them were quite sure she was exactly stable.

Raising her head, the blonde Russian girl shot them a rueful smile. "Would you believe me if I said I accidentally teleported into the wrong dimension?" When the other two mutants just stood there and continued to gape, regarding her with more than a little skepticism, she shrugged her shoulders lightly, sighing dramatically as she adopted a rather sheepish, embarrassed expression. "What can I say? Whoops?"

* * *

Amanda Sefton and Rhane Sinclair made their slow, miserable, silent way from the hangar to the elevator that would take them to Muir Island's main level.

Though their flight back had been a long one, they had barely spoken a dozen words since leaving Genosha. Too much had happened, there was too much pain and anguish yet for any of them to feel like conversation.

Maybe, in a few days, things would be better, they might be able to look at it in a different perspective. One that would let them sort through everything logically. But, right now, they each had their own pain, their own regrets, their own guilt and self recriminations to deal with that had absolutely nothing to do with logic and everything to do with emotions still too raw to share with anyone else.

By unspoken agreement, the two women boarded the elevator and rode from the third sub-basement to the first level, where the living quarters, kitchen, rec room, and other household common areas were located. Under other circumstances, Amanda might have been happy to be back here, where she had, for the most part, nothing but good memories from her time with Excalibur. After the events of today, however, the lovely sorceress couldn't muster even the slightest enthusiasm for her return to this place.

"Are ye sure ye dinn'a want to go down to the medlab? Let me at least look at your ribs? They might be broken, ye know."

Rhane's soft question shattered the heavy silence and Amanda turned to find the younger woman watching her with obvious concern in her bright green eyes, her face drawn, even more pale than it's usual soft ivory. She looked like Amanda felt; as if she'd just taken a hard kick to the gut.

Trying to give the former were-girl a little reassurance, her mouth curved the slightest bit as she shook her head and tried to sound convincing. "No, I really think it's just bruises. But, I promise. If it's not better tomorrow, I'll let you poke and prod me all you want."

"All right." Rhane acquiesced rather reluctantly, still concerned about the injuries the older woman had sustained and not particularly thrilled with the idea of something possibly happening to yet another friend. At this rate, their ranks were slowly, but surely, dwindling. "If ye're sure....?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. All I want to do right now is get a shower and try to forget about this entire day. At least for a few minutes."

"Aye." Rhane agreed somberly, falling again into a silence that laced the air with an almost palpable layer of worry, regret, and a weariness that went bone deep. A weariness, not just of the body, but of the heart and soul as well.

It was something all of them – Amanda, Peter, Kurt, Rhane, Logan, even Magneto – had felt today and none of them were sure how to shake it, or even if they could. It hung over them like a miasma, seeming to suck the energy out of their very spirits.

Upon reaching the main floor, they parted ways, Rhane going to her room and Amanda going automatically to the room she'd used before, when Excalibur had been based here. Other than the fact that the room held none of her personal effects any longer, it was largely unchanged, and that fact alone was something of a comfort. At least some things, it seemed, remained constant in this chaotic, unstable world.

Amanda stayed in the shower for a long, long while, letting the hot, nearly scalding, water wash over her, removing the grit and grime of battle and washing it away, down the drain, as if it had never been.

If only the water could do the same with her memories.

Every time she let her mind wander, even the least little bit, she saw Kitty, calling the Soulsword to her, rising in the air, surrounded by that aura of light so bright, so brilliant, that they hadn't even been able to look at her. And all those Sentinels following after her, like children after the Pied Piper.

Within seconds it had all been over. The Sentinels were gone and so was Kitty. Amanda couldn't even begin to imagine how, or where. Unless she'd gone to Limbo. But, somehow, she didn't think that was the case.

Then what had happened to her? It was a question she had to ask, but also one she knew they may not really want the answer to.

Amanda was still in awe, and not a little terror, of what she'd seen. She'd known the Soulsword was powerful, that she, herself, hadn't even begun to tap into that power. In truth, she'd never been really sure that she could, or that she wanted to. Today, however, she'd seen that power unlocked within a moment, with barely any effort at all on the part of the young woman who'd done it. Kitty had merged with the sword and become something the likes of which she'd never encountered, personally, outside of myth and legend.

She, like Peter, could only compare it to the Phoenix force for sheer, mind numbing, awe inspiring, displays of raw power. And, of course, she remembered only too well how that saga had ended.

Though what she'd seen confirmed every suspicion and theory that Amanda had about the Soulsword and it's connection to Kitty, the fact that Shadowcat now wielded such awesome power, while under the corrupting influence of the Beatrice Amulet, was enough to make the sorceress's blood run cold.

What would they do if Kitty succumbed completely to that influence? How could they possibly fight such power?

The simplest answer was: They couldn't. Not alone. Not without a lot of help. And, even then, they probably wouldn't have a prayer.

Then, there was that insidious little voice, whispering in the back of her mind, that told her if they lost Kitty, then they would lose Peter as well. And Amanda knew, without the slightest doubt, that it was true. They weren't fighting for the soul of only one friend, but two.

_**Mother, where the heck are you when I really need you?**_

Tomorrow, the former stewardess told herself, she would again try scrying for Margali. If anyone could give her an idea of what they might be up against, of any counter measures they might take, of any way they could track Kitty and try to get the Beatrice Amulet away from her, it would be Margali Szardos. If only she could get in touch with her.

Realizing that the water sluicing over her was slowly cooling, Amanda turned off the shower, stepped out, and quickly dried herself. Wrapping a towel around her wet hair and slipping into her robe, she padded on bare feet out of her room and down the hall, giving the bed a long, wistful look on her way by.

But pass it by she did, knowing that any attempt at sleep right now would simply be an exercise in frustration.

Despite the fact that she was dog tired, there was still too much adrenaline pumping through her system for her to get to sleep quite yet. She'd hoped the hot shower might help wind her down, but she was still too keyed up to rest. Though, when she finally did fall asleep, the pretty strawberry blonde had every idea she might just be unconscious for days.

They'd all been going on nothing but caffeine, adrenaline, and will power for days on end, with little to no sleep. Very soon, that was all going to give out and they would crash. Hard and fast.

Automatically, her thoughts turned to Kurt, Logan, and Peter, who had stayed behind, planning to go in search of the Master Mold the Sentinels had originated from. In Amanda's opinion, the damn thing didn't stand a chance. Those boys would be out for blood and looking for something to pound.

It was a way for them to keep busy, a way to vent some frustration and rage without taking it out on each other, themselves, or those around them. Miserable as they all were, it was probably the best thing they could do.

And then there was Magneto, who was probably going to scorch the entire world with his wrath, as he went about methodically hunting down and destroying whoever had sent the Sentinels to Genosha in the first place. His vengeance would be a terrible thing to see and God help the responsible parties, whoever they might be, when he found them. And Daytripper had no doubts what so ever that he **would** find them.

For that matter, God help anyone who got in the way of any of those four men right now. It had been years since she'd seen them all wound so tightly, or with fuses so short. Not that she blamed them. They'd been through hell recently and, just when everyone had thought it couldn't get any worse, Murphy's law had once again proven them wrong.

The three X-Men had practically shoved her and Rhane back onto the Midnight Runner to get them out of the way while, at the same time, telling them, in no uncertain terms, that their help was neither needed nor wanted. Under other circumstances, Amanda and Rhane might have been hurt by the abrupt, none too gentle, dismissal, but both women understood that they hadn't meant any harm. They simply wanted the two of them somewhere safe, so that they didn't have to worry about them as well as Kitty. And they were all hurting deeply, grieving, being eaten alive by their own guilt at being helpless to save the young woman whom they all loved fiercely, though each in a different way.

Amanda had her own share of guilt to deal with, her own shortcomings when it came to Kitty and the Soulsword and she knew Rhane felt the same way. However irrational it might seem, every one of them felt that they had failed their friend when she needed them most, that they hadn't done everything within their power to prevent what had happened.

Despite the fact that she knew, intellectually, that it was almost a foregone conclusion that Kitty would eventually call the sword, Amanda still felt that there should have been something she could do, some way she could have prevented it until they found a means to separate Shadowcat from the Beatrice Amulet and destroy it's corrupting influence.

For that was where the true danger lay. Whatever the connection between Kitty and the sword, Amanda was convinced that the Soulsword itself posed no threat to the young woman. Indeed, she believed it had been meant for Kitty all along and what she'd seen in Genosha had only strengthened that belief.

But the Beatrice Amulet was another story all together. There had been a powerful aura of evil and corruption around it and it was undoubtedly influencing Kitty. And the longer she was in contact with it, the stronger that influence would grow. Until, eventually, she really would be lost to them. Permanently.

Everything she knew about that amulet - which, admittedly, wasn't a great deal – led her to believe that it engendered nothing but iniquity and suffering.

Perhaps, over the next few days, she could go back over her information, everything she, Kurt, and Logan had written down, logged into the laptop, everything that she remembered about the Beatrice Amulet that she hadn't had a chance to put into any coherent form yet.

Maybe, somewhere in all of that was at least some of the answers they were looking for. Somewhere, there had to be information that would tell her what their next step should be. She just hoped that, when and if she finally did put it all together, it would be in time to actually do some good.

Her mind still racing, Amanda had nearly reached the kitchen when the perimeter alarms sounded, their electronic warning blaring out in the otherwise quiet complex.

Before the former flight attendant could recover her wits, Rhane came flying out of the kitchen, her bathrobe and long, damp hair trailing behind her as she ran to the wall monitor beside what served as the front door of the Muir Island Research center. Following quickly after the younger girl, Amanda came up behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder as they both stared at the monitor, Rhane quickly tapping various keys on the built in keyboard, trying to lock in on the cause of the disturbance.

_**Oh, please.....for pete's sake, don't let us be under attack. I just don't think I've got the energy to deal with that right now and I'm not sure I can muster the energy to even care if they blow the whole place sky high.**_

The former Queen of Limbo sent up the heartfelt plea as she waited to see what new catastrophe was about to befall them, while they were here alone, with no backup. But the image that finally filled the little screen was nothing even close to what she'd expected.

Striding toward the door was a very familiar figure, wreathed in tendrils of golden fire, long, slightly curly red hair lifting gently in the breeze, dressed in a very well known, scarlet red costume, with a bright gold sash around her waist and a gold firebird emblazoned across the chest.

Rhane turned, throwing Amanda a perplexed look over her shoulder. "Is that Jean?"

"No. Not Jean." Amanda shook her head slowly, not really believing her eyes. Never the less, she walked the few steps to the entranceway, Rhane close on her heels, and opened the door to the young woman standing just outside.

Their eyes met, and the statuesque redhead smiled at her brightly as she stood on the threshold, one hand poised to knock, grass green eyes twinkling mischievously at Rhane's obvious confusion and Amanda's just as obvious shock.

"Hi, guys." Rachel Summers greeted them cheerfully, as if it had only been a few days since they'd last set eyes on her, and not nearly five years. "Miss me?"

* * *

The sun was low on the horizon, casting long, thin shadows along the ground, reminding Kitty of restless spirits, reaching out to the living, seeking peace and solace.

Of course, the image could have something to do with her current location. It wasn't exactly where she'd meant to go. But, now that she was here, Kitty realized that it was where she needed to be.

This was one more page from her life that needed to be turned, one more loose end that needed to be tied up, before she could move forward again. Everything she'd ever done and everyone she'd ever known, she was just beginning to realize, was interconnected, like the interlocking pieces of a puzzle. Each, when put into it's proper place, led to another and another.

All the threads of her life, when finally knit together, made a picture that she was only now starting to see clearly, though the overall purpose, the end result, still eluded her.

But here, in this small English cemetery, one more small piece fell into place. And Kitty knew it would lead her to another, the process continuing until the tapestry was complete.

She only wished she knew where it would all leave her in the end.

Though she'd only been here once before, years ago, Kitty knew exactly where she was going. Slowly, she made her way down the narrow, grassy pathway, past rows and rows of headstones, monuments, and mausoleums, reading names and dates at random simply for something to do, something to occupy her mind so that she didn't think about her destination.

In only a few minutes, however, she was there.

Turning to face her destination, she let her duffle bags drop to the ground and took a step forward, gazing down at the two small headstones in front of her, set side by side. The one on her right belonged to a woman she'd never met, but who she felt she knew, none the less. After all, she'd heard enough about her, knew of her troubled relationship with her ex-husband and two children, knew, in great detail, the circumstances of her death.

How she and her son, her youngest child, had argued over the phone a few days before she died. How he'd been angry with her and had decided not to visit her that fateful day, as he'd been supposed to. How this woman had sat at her window, watching for the son that wasn't coming, only to be caught in the crossfire as a spree killer went through her neighborhood, shooting everyone and everything in sight.

And she knew, all too well, how her son had carried the guilt of her death around with him, a lead weight around his heart that he could never be rid of. How it had haunted him every day for the rest of his life, whether he chose to show it outwardly or not.

Now, he was here, beside her, and Kitty could only hope, pray, that he had at last found some peace.

Kneeling on the cool, damp ground, she turned her attention to the headstone on the right, reaching out to trace the letters carved into the marble, her fingertips running over the smooth stone.

_**Peter Winston Wisdom**_

_Beloved Son and Brother_

Almost two years. Pete had been dead for almost two years, yet it seemed like only yesterday that he'd walked out of her life with barely a word. Kitty hadn't wanted it to end that way between them, hadn't wanted them to part company with so much hurt and anger between them, with so much left unsettled, but she'd botched things so badly and he'd been unwilling to talk to her then.

In retrospect, Kitty realized that it wasn't because he'd been trying to hurt her, but because he'd been trying not to. She'd broken his heart, betrayed him, and his natural reaction would have been to lash out at her, to hurt her as badly as she'd hurt him. And he could have done it, too. Easily.

But he'd loved her, loved her in a way that she hadn't, in the end, been able to reciprocate. In fact, she was probably the first person Pete Wisdom had allowed past that hard, bristly, obnoxious exterior – the one he used to keep the rest of the world at a distance - in a very long time. He'd allowed her to see the man inside, with all the scars, and the pain, and the regret for the things he'd done, allowed her to glimpse the good man behind the cold, uncaring exterior. Pete had opened his heart and soul to her, and she'd repaid him by hurting in the same way that she, herself, had been hurt.

She'd been such a child. At nearly twenty, she should have had more maturity, been more of an adult, than to do something so unthinking, so callous.

Pete had done the only thing he could under the circumstances. He'd packed up and left before either of them could say something that they'd never be able to take back. He'd left them with the possibility of a reconciliation in the future.

Though Kitty understood that she had never loved him with the same depth of feeling he'd had for her, she had cared for him, quite a lot, and would have liked the opportunity to sit down with him, to talk out what had gone wrong and apologize for the way she'd hurt him, to give them the chance to at least try to be friends. Before any of that could happen, he'd been killed on a mission with X-Force. She hadn't even known, prior to that, that he was working with Cable and Domino's group.

The X-Men had been on a mission at the time as well, though, for the life of her, Kitty couldn't remember exactly what it had been. By the time they'd gotten back, by the time Sam Guthrie had gotten in touch with her to give her the news that Pete Wisdom was dead, it had all been over.

She hadn't been able to attend the funeral, hadn't been given the chance to say goodbye. Not then. But she was being given that chance now. It was, she knew, part of the reason she'd come here.

Her fingers still brushing across the carved letters of the headstone, Kitty spoke softly, finally trying to put into words all the things she hadn't been able to tell him before, all the feelings she hadn't been able to articulate on the day everything had come to a head and he'd walked out.

"Pete....I know it's been a while, and I'm really sorry I haven't visited before now. I should have. I know I should have, but it was just so hard...."

Her voice trailed off, her throat closing up tightly, as all the feelings, all the emotions, that she hadn't been able to let herself experience earlier came rushing over her in a massive wave, hitting her with such force that she could hardly bear it. Breath hitching on a sob, Kitty's face crumpled as the tears began to course down her cheeks unchecked and she closed her eyes tightly against a flood she had no hope of stopping.

"Oh, God, Pete. I'm so, so sorry for all that happened between us, for the way I hurt you. You didn't deserve that. It wasn't your fault. It was me. You loved me so much....and it scared me to death. You put me on a pedestal and I couldn't deal with it. I should have told you, should have tried to make you understand that I couldn't be your savior, that I couldn't be your redemption."

With a shuddering breath, Kitty covered her face with her hand, rocking lightly back and forth as she continued to speak through the tearing sobs wracking her body. Now that she'd started, it was as if the floodgates had opened, and she couldn't stop. She had to get it out.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear I didn't. I honestly thought I loved you.....and, I guess, in a way, I did. It just wasn't as much as I should have....not as much as you deserved. And I handled it all so badly. I should have done better. I should....."

She choked again, knowing that she needed to say the words, for her own peace of mind, for closure, but it was so hard for her to admit, so hard for her to force it all out. Even now. But Pete deserved the truth, once and for all. Whether he could hear her or not, she owed him that much.

"I should have told you.....Oh, God......I should have told you that I was still in love with Peter. But I knew how much that would hurt you, after what he'd done, after all that had happened.......And I tried to convince myself that I didn't love him. I tried to tell myself that it was only the normal concern that anyone would have for a friend, but I was lying to all of us. If only I'd been honest with you, honest with myself, I might have saved us all so much pain."

As she spoke, the tears continued to course down her face unchecked. Tears for Pete, and for Peter, and for her father, and even for herself. Tears of sorrow and regret, for all the mistakes she'd made, for everything that she'd lost. It all came pouring out of her.

Only a short time before, she'd believed she no longer had any emotions, any feelings, left. She'd been so very wrong. It had only been a defense mechanism, a way of keeping herself sane until she could do what she needed to do, until she could get away. Now, it all came pouring out in an overwhelming flood of grief, pain, and regret that nearly swept her away.

"I lost my father today, Pete. I stood there and watched helplessly as a madman killed him without even a second thought. I watched as a bunch of Sentinels tore people apart, left and right, for no reason, except that they were mutants and had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And....and, I think I may have lost my soul trying to stop it. But I didn't have any choice. I couldn't stand by and watch any more people I love die. Not when I could stop it."

"And, now, I'm here. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I just wanted you to know how sorry I am and that I never meant for things to end like they did between us. I never meant to hurt you. I know that doesn't make it right, or make it ok ......I'm just so lost, Pete....and I don't know what to do anymore, or where to turn....I've made such a mess of my life, and of so many other people's lives......and I don't know how to make it stop...."

Unable to continue, Kitty slumped forward, dropping her face into her hands as she wept brokenly, sobbing so hard that her entire body shook.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, weeping over the grave of a man she'd wronged in so many ways, when she felt a gentle hand settle on her shoulder and a soft voice, with a rather pronounced cockney accent - a voice she easily recognized, though she hadn't heard it in years - spoke quietly to her.

"Kitty? Oh, cripes. Don't cry, gel. You'll only get me started. It's all right. Everything's going to be all right now. I'm here to help you."

Lifting her head, she turned toward the speaker, snuffling and swiping at her eyes as she took in the head of thick, black hair and the unusual - the familiar - electric blue eyes. Eyes that were almost as tear filled as her own,.

The two stared at one another for a moment, Kitty's bottom lip trembling violently, before she reached out to the person kneeling beside her and felt herself being gathered into a tight, comforting, embrace as she cried out all the hurt, pain, and fear in her heart and the sun dipped down behind the horizon, leaving them in shadows and darkness.

And, for the first time since it had all begun, Katherine Pryde felt a ray of true hope pierce the gloom that surrounded her.

* * *

Again, let me apologize for the ending that left you hanging. I swear, more will become clear in the next chapter.

**Reviews: **Again, let me thank everyone who took their valuable time to send in a review. They are much appreciated and probably the only thing that has gotten me this far with this chapter without going insane. You guys are the best.

**Brainfear: **Have no fear. Of course love conquers all. What fun would it be if it didn't. I enjoy torturing them, but I won't leave them like that forever.

**Kirayoshi:** Yeah, Goddess pretty much works. (big evil grin) As for her soul, well not lost exactly. More like temporarily misplaced. We'll be looking for it shortly. Kitty and Peter will get back together. Hopefully soon. But, you know they probably won't have much down time, or much less stress, for a little while yet. We'll be seeing Vargas again. Soon. He'll get his eventually, but he's not quite done yet. And, sorry no Peter this time. I was supposed to have Peter, but he's in the last part of what was supposed to be this chapter. So, he's not gonna show til next time.

**Irismoon: **So glad you're hanging in there with me and even more glad you're enjoying it. Things should get very interesting, very shortly, once I get everything set up and everyone in place. Hope you'll stick around.

**Lia Fail: **Yes, very disturbing, violent chapter. But, it's hard to have a massacre without it. ;) Bishop is so much fun to make jokes on. But I love him. He reminds me of Warf on Star Trek. There will be more mystery to come, but we'll also start seeing some of our current mysteries start to unravel slightly, now that everyone is on the same time and same dimension. Really glad you're enjoying it so far. I like to touch on some of the comic aspects and rearrange them to suit me. Makes me feel powerful. I liked that particular Yu version of Kitty, too. And, yes. Revolutions was horrid. Let's hope Reload is better. Gotta love those X-Babies. And Piotr was such a cute little guy, too. What more justification do we need for our Kitty/Piotr obsession? I feel very justified.

**Darkstorm5000:** We all love Lockheed. Couldn't really leave him out of all this. And Kitty would've really missed him. She's lost enough already, I think, without losing him, too. As for Magneto, well I'm a fan of non-insane Magneto back when he had a personality and a conscience. I can't write giggly, insane, completely evil Magneto. It's just not right. Yes, the Genosha stuff was pretty intense, but at least I left lots more people alive than Marvel did. As you see, Kitty isn't gone, just relocated. We'll have more on that next chapter. And, don't worry. I'm not sure anyone truly understands everything that went on in Inferno. Every team on the face of the earth who had ever even looked at an X was in that and there were several different plots going on at once. We're all slightly confused on that one.

**T.A. Pixiestix: **Glad you enjoyed it. Strangely enough, I had a really good time writing it, even though I was pretty much wreaking havoc on an entire country. Kitty, as you have found out, has relocated slightly. Yes, the books are Illyana's and more will be explained on that later. Cliffhangers? What cliffhangers? Lol. I guess I just love torturing people and characters. Didn't quite mean for this chapter to be such a cliffhanger. It just turned out that way. Of course, Kitty and Peter had to have a few minutes together before all the crap really hit the fan. They'll be seeing one another again soon, too. Yeah, Wolvie's pretty torn up, but so is everyone else. Mass angst. Gotta love it. It's ok if you're sad, as long as it's a good thing. Still wanted Kitty in the movie. All they would have had to do was change the whole plot. Is that so much to ask?

**Gypsy: **I'm thrilled that you're enjoying this so much. I'm enjoying writing it. Most of the time. I'll be happier when I get past the next chapter. Then, things should start to pick up. And, surely you don't think I'd leave Wolvie out? After all, against magic, what more could you want than a guy who can turn to steel and a guy with big, sharp, metal claws?

* * *

**Coming Soon: **With any luck, we'll find out just who that is Kitty's hugging in the grave yard. We'll get Illyana's reaction to the fact that the X-Men, including her brother, aren't really dead. We'll visit the boys as they smash Master Mold into little tiny pieces, and we'll check back at Muir for reactions to Rachel's arrival.


	18. Scattered Pieces

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own any of 'em and I'm sure not making any money off this.

**A/N: **Well, here, finally, is Chapter 18. I am kissing the ground in thanksgiving for having finally gotten it out, on paper and posted. It fought me the entire way. I have at least five different versions of this chapter, none of which worked like I wanted. This last one was as close as I could come. I can only hope chapter 19 will be a little more cooperative. The next two chapters or so will probably come a little slower because they're going to involve a lot of research, so please bear with me.

* * *

**Chapter 18 – Scattered Pieces**

Pale, trembling, and feeling not a little shell-shocked, Illyana sat down on the bed in the room that she and Kitty used to share, dropping her head down into her hands as her cascade of golden hair fell around her face like a silken curtain.

It wasn't often, anymore, that anything could surprise her, that she could be caught off guard, startled. She'd been through too much, learned too much, over the years for that to happen.

Today, however, had proven to be one of those rare, almost nonexistent times.

The young Russian woman knew she was being rather unsociable – sitting up here in the dark by herself, where she'd run after the latest round of surprises in a day that had proven to be full of them - but she was having a very hard time coping with all she'd learned since she stepped back into this world this afternoon. Her mind simply couldn't process it fast enough it seemed

Rogue, Storm, Wolverine, Psylocke.....Peter. All the X-Men she'd thought had died in Dallas were still alive. Had been alive all along. It had all been a ruse. A really stupid, cruel ruse.....but a ruse, none the less. And Illyana truly had no idea how to feel about it.

She kept waffling somewhere between eternally thankful that her brother - as well as the rest of her friends in the X-Men - was alive, and royally pissed off that they'd put her, Kitty, Kurt, and so many others, through that hell for no good reason. They'd mourned for them. For months. It was a toss up as to which feeling would win out in the end.

**_Of course,_** **_was what they did really that much different from what I did?_**

No. Though her reasons were certainly better, more sound, she concluded that it probably wasn't really any different. But that didn't make it any easier to accept. Or make it hurt any less.

Then, there was the little girl she'd sent back here in her place. The Illyana that belonged to that first team of X-Men.

She'd thought she was doing a good thing, sending that child here, away from Belasco, from S'ym, where she would have parents and friends who loved her and would look after her. Where she'd thought that she'd be safe. And, at the same time, leaving her own parents at least one child, instead of them losing both Peter and herself almost on top of one another.

But she'd been oh so wrong. Because of her decision, her parents had been murdered, that other Illyana had died of the Legacy virus, and Peter had been driven nearly insane by grief, thinking he'd lost all the family he had.

When Rogue had told her about the way her brother had behaved, the things he'd done, she'd scarcely been able to believe it. It hadn't sounded even remotely like the Piotr she'd known, the gentle, artistic, soul who would much rather paint than fight and who'd always served as protector, not aggressor.

He'd always fought because he had to, because he'd thought it was the right thing to do. Not because he wanted to. Not because it was his nature to do so.

At that point, she would have really liked to believe that she had, indeed, landed in the wrong dimension. But she couldn't. Not after all the things Rogue had told her, had shown her, that proved she was exactly where she'd meant to be.

As if all that weren't bad enough, there had been everything that Kitty had been going through. Not just the past few weeks or months, but the past several years. All the people she'd lost, her relationship with Peter – which seemed to be nothing so much as a never ending disaster – Scott's death, Moira's death, the death of that spy she'd dated for a while.....

_**Huh. Kitty, with some rough, obnoxious British spy who was, apparently, a real piece of work. Who woulda ever thought?**_

Certainly not her. The very idea boggled the mind and Illyana was determined to get all the details out of her friend if they made it out of this thing alive.

Kitty had been fighting against the forces set out to work against them, to confuse and corrupt them, for what sounded like months now. Alone. And Illyana knew from experience that it was never an easy battle.

From what she was hearing, it was a wonder Kitty was still sane.

Illyana had known that it would be hardest for her friend, out of all of them - because she was the central figure in all of this - but there had been nothing she could do about it, nothing she could do to make things easier. No matter how much she might have wanted to. Which had put them at a huge disadvantage.

They were already working under a handicap, and it was only going to get worse. What had just happened in Genosha was a prime example of that.

Of course, they didn't know all the details, yet. But she knew enough to know that things had progressed much farther than she'd believed possible.

Rogue, Storm, and all the rest seemed to believe that the Sentinels were the work of some human, earthly force. Illyana knew better. Magneto could search and threaten all he liked, he'd never find the party responsible. And, for that, he should be thankful.

It was all so overwhelming. Even to her, and she knew much more about what was happening, what was going to happen, than Kitty did. She could only imagine how overwhelmed, how lost and hopeless, her friend was feeling.

And, then, for Illyana, there was the added surprise of finding out her brother was not only alive, but was also a part of all this.

Of all the information contained in The Book, of everything she'd learned over the last seven years, three things had continually eluded her. The identity of the third Sister, the identity of the Champion, and the identity of the High Priestess.

Now, at least, one of those identities was revealed, in a way she would never have believed possible before today. It made her wonder what lay in store down the road, and seriously ponder if she actually wanted to know.

She'd expected things to be different, of course, after so long a time. But she hadn't expected anything like this. And Illyana really wasn't sure how she should handle it, what her next step should be.

Within the last hours, she'd been presented with three urgent tasks and her head was spinning with it all. She was terribly afraid she didn't have the time she needed to sort it all out. Things had progressed much farther than she would have thought possible before they were all pulled together and time was running very, very short.

Two weeks. Three at the outside. That was all. They had to pull it all together, make all the pieces of the puzzle fit, within that time if they didn't want everything they'd gone through to be for nothing. She wasn't really sure it was possible within that time frame.

Illyana was a natural teleporter and a very powerful sorceress, but even she couldn't be in three or four places at one time. And that's what this was going to apparently take.

She raised her head as a shadow fell across the door, finding the man she'd met earlier....Oh, what was his name?.....Remy. That was it. Remy. They called him Gambit. Rogue's boyfriend. Would wonder's never cease?

Remy was standing in the doorway, watching her quietly with those strange red on black eyes that she found slightly disconcerting.

He was a strange one. Seemingly outgoing, outrageously flirtatious, yet he never seemed to truly reveal anything of himself. As if it were all a front, a mask, the charming, rakish exterior he cultivated to keep the world at bay, to keep anyone from seeing inside the real man.

In him, Illyana instinctively recognized something of a kindred spirit. Someone with a past that wasn't exactly pristine, a soul who had walked quite a long way through the darkness before finally making it out into the light. Someone who would always be slightly in the shadows, no matter how much they wanted the sun.

Despite the fact that she'd managed to overcome Belasco's influence over her, had managed to cast out the demons that had haunted her for so long, had thrown off the illusions and the lies to find a measure of peace and purpose, it had all left it's mark on her soul, on her life. She might have finally put it all behind her, but she would never forget.

And she would never allow it to happen again.

The two regarded one another openly, each studying the other with frank curiosity, for a few moments, Remy's face never changing from that bland, almost aloof expression he wore as his eyes seemed to bore into her.

Finally, after a long silence, he spoke, his voice low, smooth, softly accented, reminding her of aged whiskey and steamy, southern nights.

"You ok, petit´?"

With a soft snort of laughter that was totally humorless, Illyana shook her head. "No, not really. Though I'll live I suppose."

"Mind some company?"

With a little shrug, Illyana motioned to the twin bed a few feet away, the one that used to be Kitty's many, many years ago. "Help yourself."

"Merci."

It was only as he entered the room, sauntering over to the bed to take a seat across from her, that Illyana realized he wasn't alone. Rogue, who had apparently been standing in the hallway behind him, followed in on his heels, taking a seat beside Gambit, both of them facing her.

Rogue gazed over at her with big, wet, emerald green eyes, her own upset and sorrow evident in the lines of grief and worry etched on her face, the dark circles under her eyes from days with little or no sleep.

"We don't mean to bother you. We just wanted to see if ya needed anything."

"Yeah," the younger woman replied sharply, with a short, bitter laugh. "I'd like a life that makes some sense for once, if you wouldn't mind too much. And a damn clue what I'm supposed to do now would be nice, too."

Dropping her eyes, Rogue nodded, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "Yeah. Me, too."

The sadness in her soft voice was evident and Illyana immediately felt a sharp stab of guilt. Why was she taking this out on Rogue? It certainly wasn't her fault and she was already very upset. She'd recently lost the only mother she'd ever known, one of her best friends was missing, and the rest of her friends...no, her family...seemed to be falling to pieces around her. There was no purpose served in making her feel worse.

As Illyana watched, without a word, or even a glance her way, Gambit slid his hand over Rogue's, gently unknotting them and enveloping one of her small, gloved hands in his larger one. She clung to it tightly, as if he were her lifeline.

**_And, in a lot of ways, he probably is, _**Yana told herself, giving the other woman an apologetic look. **_I'm glad he's here for her. She needs somebody who really cares for her. She deserves that._**

"I'm sorry, Rogue. I don't mean to take this all out on you. I just feel so overwhelmed. I thought I knew what to expect. Then, I get here and....." Trailing off, she shook her head in frustration, briefly closing her eyes as if she could simply shut it all out and make it go away. "....and nothing's like I thought it would be. There's so much I need to do, and I need to do it all at once. And I have no idea how."

Remy cocked his head to one side, his red-black eyes meeting her deep blue ones, though she could read nothing at all from them. There wasn't the emotion there that she'd clearly seen in Rogue.

He was like a closed book and - though she knew from what Rogue had said earlier that this man and Kitty were rather good friends – no hint of what he might be feeling showed through that blank mask at all. Apparently, he hadn't quite decided if he would open up for her or not. Not that she blamed him.

"Why don't you tell us what you need, petit´? Maybe we can help."

"What I need," she began with a resigned, tired sigh, "is to be in three different places at one time. I doubt even the X-Men can help with that."

"You might be surprised." the Cajun returned calmly, settling back and obviously expecting her to comply with his request, his whole demeanor telling her that he wouldn't be willing to take no for an answer, and that he would happily wait her out.

_**Oh, yeah. This one is definitely a good match for Rogue. I doubt there's very much that could happen that would phase him.**_

With a resigned sigh, Illyana nodded, conceding the point simply because she really didn't have the energy to argue.

"All right. I need to find all of Irene Adler's diaries. I need to find Kitty and get the amulet away from her. I need to find my brother. And, I need to find them all within the next week at the very latest. Plus, one more person that I don't even know yet. Then, I need to get us all at the same place, at the same time, and in one piece."

"Ah knew it." At the mention of Destiny's Diaries, Rogue's head snapped up, green eyes blazing. "Ah knew those damned diaries would come into this before it was all over. Ah shoulda burned the damned things to ashes when Ah had the chance. They've never been nothin' but trouble. Not since Irene first wrote 'em. There's been more sufferin', trouble, and death because of those books than just about anything else Ah can think of, short of Apocalypse....."

Reaching out, Illyana laid a hand on Rogue's arm, to both calm her and draw her attention. "No, you don't understand. The books shouldn't be destroyed. They can be used for good, and they can be understood. And they are very important in what I need to do. They just have to be in the hands of someone able to comprehend them."

"I haft'a agree with Rogue." Gambit put in, looking from one woman to the other. "I'm not sure there's any good can come of those books. An' it's cost too many lives already. We ain't seen nobody yet that can use those books to do anything but hurt."

"Well, you have now. Because I can." Illyana assured them with absolute surety.

At her assertion, Remy cocked one eyebrow skeptically in her direction, clearly not believing her. "An' how you know that, petit´? 'Cause, I gotta tell ya, that's a tune we've heard before."

Illyana smiled at them both, knowing that they didn't understand and not sure that she would be able to explain it to them in a way that wouldn't just cause them more confusion. So, she just gave them the simpliest answer she had.

"I know, because those books are my Destiny. They were written for me. I was meant to understand them." When it became apparent that they still didn't exactly believe her, the young woman knew she was going to have to give them proof. She couldn't risk them finding one or more of the diaries and destroying them out of ingnorance of their true purpose. "Hang on."

Closing her eyes, Illyana concentrated for a moment, holding both her hands out in front of her, palms up. Within a few seconds, it seemed as if the air around her was suddenly infused with a brilliant, blue-white light and, slowly, a book materialized in her hands.

"Mon dieu!" Remy leaned slightly forward, looking her over curiously. "I thought you were a teleporter?"

As the brilliant glow slowly faded, she opened her eyes and looked down at the tome. "I am. A chronovariant teleporter. But, this isn't part of my mutation, thought it is connected to it in some way. This book is mine and it's a lot more than what it appears to be at first glance. Just like the Soulsword is part of Kitty, this book is a part of me. Only, it took me a very long time to realize it....."

Both Rogue and Gambit studied the volume curiously, once they were over the initial shock of it's sudden appearance. After a moment, Rogue's eyes narrowed to slits as she recognized the look of it. "That looks like one of Irene's Diaries...."

The pretty blonde nodded. "Yes, it does. But it's far older than anything Irene Adler ever wrote. This book is like a key, and index, that links all the diaries together, makes them understandable. It's the reason I'm so certain I **can** understand them. I'm really the only one who can. And it's part of something that involves me, Kitty, Piotr, the Soulsword, Irene Adler's Diaries, Limbo and so many more elements that I can't possibly list them all. At least, not right now." She threw her two companions a rather sardonic grin. "Mainly because I haven't figured it all out myself, yet. But, I've got to start working on it. I don't have a lot of time."

The two older mutants turned toward one another almost simultaneously, exchanging a look that Illyana couldn't decipher as they seemed to come to some kind of silent agreement before turning back. Again, it was Remy who broke the silence.

"If you need the books, then we'll help you look for them. An' we'll start right here. Mystique gave the five she had to Charlie an' they're somewhere in this house. We just haven't been able to track 'em down yet. When we do, then we deal with the rest, d'accord?"

With a smile of thanks, Illyana nodded her agreement. It was a surprise to learn that five of the books were here, but it was a welcome one. That would be several that she wouldn't have to track down the hard way. In the meantime, she'd be working on a way to locate Kitty, the Amulet, the rest of the diaries, and the third Sister. It was a lot to hope that they could accomplish within such a short amount of time, but she didn't have any choice but to try. Too much depended on it.

* * *

"So, let me see if I get this straight...."

Arms folded on the table, expression carefully schooled into one of calm contemplation, Rachel Summers, also known as Phoenix, stared across the table at her two companions, trying to absorb the sudden crash course she'd just been given in the events of the last few weeks. Actually, scratch that. The last few years would be more like it.

And, none of it, she was sorry to say, was making very much sense to her right now.

"....Kitty begins acting strange, becoming hostile, withdrawn, and well....strange. But everybody just sorta attributes it all to stress from the breakup of Excalibur, trying to mesh back into the X-Men, and the murder of the British spy that she'd had an affair with........"

Rachel couldn't help but shake her head at that one. Kitty. Sweet, young, sorta frumpy, slightly nerdy, rather naive Kitty. The same one who mooned after Alistair Stuart when she was fifteen, but was much too shy to ever tell him she liked him. The girl Rachel had practically had to hog tie to get out of anything but baggy sweats and jeans and into something resembling normal, girls clothes.

The one who's heart had been broken all over again when Charlie, Scott, and Jean had talked her into luring Peter down to Muir from Avalon to treat his head injury. Who'd stood there in the rain and cried, watching him leave her again, with her whole heart in her eyes for everybody to see.

Rachel still wasn't sure she completely forgave everybody involved in that mess, and that most definitely included Peter.

Her innocent, optomistic, good-little-girl Kate. Having a wild affair with a shady British spy. Who was ten years or so older than her. And not a very nice person, either, even in spy terms. The very thought was simply beyond her comprehension.

When this was over, there would be explanations. Many, many explanations. Rachel was determined to get to the truth. Because this, surely, couldn't be it. Nate had never mentioned anything about British spies, especially in conjunction with Kitty.

Of course, she mused, her forehead wrinkling in thought, her time displaced, sort-of brother wasn't exactly the most informed, up-to-the-minute, source when it came to X-Men news, either. But, still. Kitty? Nope. No way.

".....then, we lose Scott and Moira......"

Her eyes met Rhane's - eyes almost the same shade of green as her own - across the table, sharing pain and sympathy in the loss of a parent. Though the Scott Summers of this time line wasn't technically her father, he'd been the closest thing that Rachel had and his loss still hurt. Deeply.

Of course, she didn't know Rhane well - still thinking of her as the shy little wolf-girl she'd known years ago and hardly able to relate her to the not-very-shy, poised, young woman sitting across from her now – but her heart went out to her all the same. No one should ever have to lose their mother, or anyone else for that matter, in such a horrible way.

"......and there's some kind of freak episode in the Danger Room during a sparring match between Betsy and Kitty that gives them glowing red eyes, causes them to try and shish-kabob one another, puts them both into a coma, and nearly kills them......"

Just when she'd thought things with the X-Men couldn't possibly get any stranger, just when Rachel had believed she'd seen pretty much all there was to see, heard all there was to hear, something like this conversation pops up and wham....some new and stranger event whacks her over the head. Lovely.

"......followed by some sort of break up between Kitty and Peter at a nightclub, though they haven't even dated in almost a decade, and he goes back to the mansion and tries to kill himself with the screwed up cure to the Legacy virus...."

_**And, again, we have the newest entry into the "Things Just Keep Getting Stranger and More Screwed Up" category. This place and the mansion are crammed full of technology that could bring a piece of dry toast to sentient life, but it can't manage to cure one, simple, retrovirus without killing somebody to do it? What is wrong with this picture?**_

".....which Kitty manages to arrive in time to prevent. After that, they both disappear for the rest of the night to who knows where. During which time they may or may not have patched things up...."

Oh, yeah. This was starting to sound very familiar. It was all coming back to her now. She began to remember all the dozens of reasons why she hadn't wanted the X-Men to know she was alive. Why she'd wanted to have a normal life as a normal college student without the daily descent into mutants, magic, and mayhem.

"......but, when he wakes up the next morning, Kitty's gone, along with a sample of the cure for the Legacy virus. Meanwhile, the Soulsword disappears from Limbo. Amanda, here, heads for Westchester and Kitty goes to the prison hospital where Mystique's being held, apparently intending to kill her with the Legacy cure....."

And, no, she hadn't missed the reference to Peter waking up the next morning to find Kitty gone, which was just one more item on her list that Rachel would be discussing with her friend when, and if, they ever found her. If she even recognized her. Based on what she was learning, Kitty had changed much.

"....Only, she can't do it and almost injects herself, instead. But, for reasons I can't even begin to fathom and don't even want to attempt to, Mystique stops her and uses the Legacy serum on herself, curing the virus, but ending her own life....."

Here, ladies and gentlemen, we have our next entry under the heading of "Will Wonders Never Cease". Who would have ever imagined that Raven Darkholme, after all she'd done, would, in the eleventh hour, suddenly grow a conscience? And actually do something noble for a change.

".....After which, Kitty takes off for Genosha, looking for her father, followed by Logan, Kurt and you...."

She motioned toward Amanda, who nodded a confirmation.

".....while Peter takes off for here, Muir Island, apparently to fulfill a request Kitty made, asking him to get out of the X-Men and pick up his life as the artist, Peter Nicholas....."

Well, she supposed that sort of made sense. About as much as any of this did. Rachel could understand Kitty, in her present state of mind, wanting Peter away from the X-Men, wanting him to do something that made him happy. And she could also understand her sending him here, to Muir Island and Rhane, because she didn't want to younger girl to be alone, either.

But all that brought her back to the question of just what, exactly, was going on between Peter and Kitty and was he just screwing with her again, planning to shatter her heart into a few more pieces later? For his sake, he'd better not be. Rachel had watched him hurt Kitty one too many times already. He wouldn't get away unscathed next time.

"......Meanwhile, most of the rest of the X-Men take off for....where ever....looking for the rest of Destiny's diaries....."

The time displaced young Phoenix stopped then to take a breath. It seemed the longer she talked, the stranger and stranger the whole story sounded. Strange even for the X-men, for whom strange is an extremely relative term.

".....Then, Kitty gets to Genosha, Logan runs into her and some guy who's trying to....what? Assault her? Attack her?......"

Which made absolutely no sense what so ever. Kitty was one of the best hand to hand fighters she knew. Even without her phasing power, she could handle herself against nearly anything thrown her way. And, if all else failed, she could always phase herself out of harms way.

However, if she believed what Logan had told Amanda, then this man hadn't been any ordinary man. He had disappeared into so much nothing when Wolverine went for him, and he'd apparently had some sort of hold over Kitty, or some power that prevented her from defending herself. The only question was, who the heck was he and what did he want?

And where, pray tell, could Phoenix get her hands on him?

Shaking her head, Rachel picked back up on her train of thought. That question would have to wait for another time. Maybe when they knew more than they did at the moment, whenever that might be, and when Amanda and Rhane weren't so obviously dead on their feet.

".....Logan manages to put the guy on the run, but Kitty won't let him help her. Says she's too far gone to the Soulsword. She disappears. He can't find her. The three of you get together, start gathering information, and decide that the problem lies with the Bloodstone Amulet, or Beatrice Amulet, or whatever you want to call it......"

Here we go back into the land of the strange and unexplainable. Rachel never had exactly understood the whole thing with Illyana, Kitty, the Soulsword, Limbo, and this amulet thing. And it didn't look as if it were suddenly all going to become clear now. Not without a lot of long, tiring explanations. She didn't think any of them were particularly up to that right now.

".....So, you three decide to go off in search of Kitty, to try to get the amulet away from her. Meanwhile, she's in the Presidential Palace with Magneto, who's had Lockheed for the last couple of months or so, nursing him back to health...."

Now that bit of information, strangely enough, didn't really surprise Rachel. Erik and Kitty had always gotten along well. Well, when they weren't trying to destroy one another, anyway. But, Magneto, in her opinion, had never really been an evil man. Or, he hadn't meant to be at least. And he would know how much Lockheed meant to the young girl. It was reasonable to believe that he would try to help if he could. He wasn't, after all, completely without compassion.

".....And, just as everybody's kind of all coming together in the same place, out of the blue a huge group of strange-looking Sentinels attack Genosha and all hell breaks loose. Everybody starts fighting for their life, Rhane and Peter show up....."

She nodded toward Rhane, who gave her a slight, tired smile in return. It was obvious that both her companions were exhausted and not in very good spirits. Not that Rachel blamed them. Her own mood had taken a decided downturn since her arrival a few hours ago.

".....that strange man appears out of nowhere again, grabs Kitty, who starts fighting him, trying to get away. But she can't, just like before. Then, out of nowhere, her father materializes in the middle of all this chaos, attacks the mysterious man....."

"His name was Vargas." Amanda put in absently, staring down into her stale cup of tea. "Or, at least, that's what he told Logan, just before he disappeared."

Rachel nodded, pondering the name, trying to decide if it held any familiarity at all, but she soon determined that it didn't. Whoever this man was, she'd never heard of, or met, him before. And he'd best hope their paths wouldn't cross at a later date. He might be able to hold off Kitty in some way, but she doubted very seriously that he could hold his own against the Phoenix.

".....Ok, so this Vargas hits Kitty's father, sending him careening into a batch of Sentinels, which results in his death...."

Here, Rachel had to stop for a minute, dropping her head into her hands to compose herself. Dear God, what Kitty must have gone through, watching her father killed like that. It was something no child should ever have to see happen to their parent. That, she knew from personal experience. Just one more reason this Vargas character was going to wish he'd never been born.

".....Then, things escalate. If that's actually possible. The Sentinels are overwhelming the fighters, Kitty is, understandably, hysterical, the robots that you'd thought you'd destroyed are reforming themselves, and it looks very much like everyone is going to die a terrible, horrible death. So, Kitty, not seeing any other way out, calls the Soulsword....."

It was this next part that was really giving Rachel trouble. Mainly because she just didn't understand how it could be possible.

".....and proceeds to turn every single funcitonal Sentinel in Genosha into so much dust and flakes of metal, then just simply disappears like she'd never been there in the first place. Is that about right?"

"Aye." Rhane stated flatly. "That would be about it."

Shaking her head in stark incomprehension, Rachel looked from one woman to another. "I don't see how that could even be concievable. That kind of power.....well.... I don't know of very many mutants who would be capable of something like that. You're talking manipulation of matter on a molecular level. Advanced, Omega level abilities. Probably Nate could, if he didn't have to put so much into fighting the T-O virus. Possibly David Haller. Mikhail Rasputin, definitely. Franklin Richards, if he were an adult. And myself, but only when I'm bonded with the Phonenix..."

"Well, you see," Amanda cut in, her head coming up as she leaned slightly forward in her chair. "that's just the thing. What we saw today looked like something that you, as the Phoneix, would do. Very, very much like it. Almost identical, in fact."

For a moment, Rachel just stared at the other woman uncomprehendingly. As the meaning behind the sorceress' words sunk in, however, the redhead blinked, taken aback, her bright green eyes going wide. No, that couldn't be right. What she was thinking couldn't be possible. Could it?

"Amanda, are you trying to tell me that Kitty has been possessed by a force the equivalent of the Phoenix?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you, and more...."

Thinking about the likelihood of such a thing, Rachel shook her head in firm denial. "No. That's not possible. As far as we've ever known – as far as anyone's ever known – there's never never any evidence of such a thing. The Phoenix is one of a kind. It blows my mind to think that there might be a second force that potent. The sheer amount of power......well, I really don't think you can imagine. And I also don't think you can imagine what it takes to control and contain something like that."

The strawberry blonde sorceress leveled her gaze at the young woman who was the destined and rightful host of the cosmic Phoenix entity, firm in her convictions and completely unwilling to back down.

"Well, you are right about one thing. I don't think that there's a second force as powerful as the Phoenix. Not at all. Actually, I think there's three of them. And I think you might be able to help us figure out who the other one is, if you're willing."

* * *

Sitting in the den of the neat little apartment, wearing a red, terry cloth, bath robe about two sizes too big for her, and sipping a cup of hot tea laced strongly with lemon and whiskey, Kitty stared blankly across the small space.

She looked like nothing so much as a lost little girl and, in a real sense, that's exactly what she was. So much had happened to her, so many life changing events in such quick succession - not the least of which had occurred this very day - that her companion wondered if she would ever really be the same again. If she would ever be able to regain the laughter, the carefree spark of life, that used to be such a prominent part of her personality.

Her eyes seemed to be fixated on the far wall, staring at the light blue painted surface as if it might hold all the answers she sought. She'd been sitting like that for the last hour or two, not speaking, just sipping her tea and staring at the wall, looking lost and shell shocked. It wasn't, her friend decided, a very good sign.

"Kitty, are you going to stare at that wall all night? Or do you plan on talking to me, so we can start figuring out what's going on? 'Cause I've got my own theories, but you're gonna have to help me out here. I know it's been a hell of a day, but I have the feeling that time's not on our side."

As if coming out of a trance, Kitty blinked, slowly turning toward the voice, wide brown eyes locking with those electric blue ones. God, those eyes brought back memories. Some of them, at least, good ones.

"Sorry, Romany. I don't mean to zone out on you. Still processing everything, I guess." Her voice was too flat, even to her own ears, devoid of emotion, devoid of anything. After the breakdown at Pete's grave, she'd realized she couldn't afford to feel anything. Not now. Not and keep any shred of her sanity.

"'S'ok. Don't worry about it, luv. I don't mean to push, but I just keep having this feeling of urgency, y'know? Like we're racing against a clock. I'd like to get started, if you feel up to it."

In truth, Romany Wisdom didn't really expect her guest to be up to much of anything, judging by the looks of her.

Kitty'd been a basket case when she'd found her kneeling at her little brother's grave. She'd never considered that the younger woman would be carrying around such guilt about the way her relationship with the older man had ended and his subsequent death on a mission with one of the many and various X-teams.

Romany never could remember which one it had been. X-Flock or X-Ferocious, or some such nonsense. They all seemed pretty much the same to her.

She'd been so worried about the young woman's emotional state at the time, that she hadn't even noticed the physical damage until they'd gotten back to her flat. Thankfully, it hadn't looked quite as bad once Kitty had gotten cleaned up, but it was still rather shocking.

Kitty was covered in cuts, bruises, and contusions, though none of them were particularly serious, and she didn't have any broken bones as far as Romany could tell. But she'd certainly been through a right good beating.

Aside from the minor damage to her body, her face looked the worst. There were bruises around her neck and one cheek, and she was sporting a lovely, purple and black bruise around one eye. Frankly, it looked like someone had beaten the hell out of her, which the native Londoner considered rather strange, considering what she knew of Kitty's powers and fighting skills.

Still, that was all secondary to the main task before them, whatever that might turn out to be. There was no way for her to know until she could get Kitty to talk to her.

As if her thoughts had reached the young woman curled up in the oversize armchair, Kitty finally spoke up again.

"You know, I haven't even asked how you found me, how you knew where I'd be." A somewhat sardonic grin curved her mouth as she cocked one eyebrow at the other woman. "I guess I could take it as coincidence, but, somehow, I doubt that's the case."

"And you'd be right." Romany affirmed with a soft laugh. "It weren't a coincidence. I've been on the lookout for you for a while now. Been to that bloody graveyard every day for the last week."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, Kitty tilted her head, brows knit together, as she shot her companion a quizzical look. "Why on earth...?"

"Quite simply because, for the last two weeks, every time I did a scrying or a reading, all I'd get was an image of you sitting in front of Pete's grave. Not exactly the most subtle hint I've ever received and I decided that, if it was that urgent, then I'd better make damn sure I didn't miss you."

Kitty started to shake her head, but the towel slipped abruptly and she had to grab for it to keep it from falling in her face. Not bothering to re-wrap it, she simply soaked as much moisture from her still damp locks as she could then laid the wet towel in her lap, returning her attention to Pete's older sister.

"In all honesty, Romany, I don't know why I didn't think of you before," she confessed. "Lately, I feel like there's things, simple things, that I should understand, that I should be catching onto, but I just can't seem to grasp them. It's almost like I'm walking around in a fog."

At this acknowledgment of her feelings, the raven haired woman nodded, her expression considering and serious. "I might have a theory or two on that. But, first, I really need you to tell me what's been going on, Kitty. It's the only way I'll be able to help you like I'm apparently meant to."

With a weary sigh, Kitty nodded. Of course, Romany was right. She needed to know the whole, sordid mess. But that wouldn't make the telling any easier. And she felt as if, for the last several weeks, all she'd done was wade through this crap over and over again, in one way or another.

Taking a deep breath, she began her tale, describing in short, halting, sometimes rather confused, sentences all the events that had taken place from the time the Soulsword started to appear to her again, shortly after Pete Wisdom's death, up until the events in Genosha that led her to be in that London graveyard where Romany had found her.

It wasn't easy. In fact, it was pretty much like reliving it all over again – and so much of it poked mercilessly at emotional wounds that were still so raw - but she tried not to hold anything back, at least nothing more than a few private details that wouldn't make any difference in the story one way or another.

Romany, for her part, was and exceptionally good listener, as she'd always been. She listened patiently, never interrupting her - watching Kitty interestedly with those electric blue eyes that were so identical to her brother's that it was almost uncanny - only nodding occasionally when Kitty would stop to make sure the other woman understood what she was trying to get across.

It seemed so strange to be sitting here, spilling her guts to a woman who should probably, by all rights, despise her. But Romany had made it clear that she held no hard feelings toward Kitty at all where Pete, or anything else, was concerned. And it had come as a huge relief to the younger woman.

In so many ways Romany and Pete were very alike. They both had that jet black hair – Romany's reaching well past her waist, as it had since the first time Kitty had met her - those intelligent, piercing, electric blue eyes, an incredibly keen and analytical intellect, and a rather dry, often irreverent, sense of humor.

But there were a lot of differences, too. Physically, as well as temperamentally.

Where Pete had been slim, almost to the point of being thin, and – if not short, then not particularly tall, either - Romany was of above average height for a woman, and solidly built, though by no means overweight. In another day and time, she would have been considered a handsome woman. Not beautiful, but certainly not ugly. Her looks fell more into a category of attractiveness that was outside the popularly perceived norm.

And, she was calmer than Pete, quieter, and not nearly as outwardly abrasive. Much more personable upon initial contact, and a great deal more open. Kitty had always gotten along very well with her and they'd exchanged cards and letters regularly, even after she and Pete broke up.

Which made it all the stranger that, not once during this whole thing - when she was wracking her brain trying to come up with someone well versed in the occult and the mystic arts who might be able to help her – had it occurred to her that Romany would be the perfect person to seek out.

Kitty doubted that even Amanda had the kind of esoteric, occult knowledge that Romany Wisdom possessed. Good grief, the first time they'd met had been while she and Pete were working on solving a series of crimes committed by a mutant serial killer. The case had involved a murderer who turned his victims to stone and wrote what had turned out to be a letter to God on their petrified remains in an ancient, supposedly magical, language.

Romany had been the one to come in and decipher all the writing, and to activate that...Man Stone skeleton thing they'd found in the river.

Even the thoughts of that decidedly horrible oddity still made her shudder in revulsion and the young X-Man wasn't exactly a person prone to a weak constitution. But, when you saw a fossilized human skeleton with a glowing red orb in it's chest sit up off the table and begin holding a conversation - offering to answer your questions and help you find things - it tended to make quite a lasting impression. Kitty was extremely thankful it wasn't an experience she'd ever had to repeat.

But, until today, over Genosha, after she'd called the sword and destroyed the Sentinels, it hadn't even crossed her mind that Romany might be able to shed some light on what was going on in her life. Now, she felt like a complete idiot for not seeing it before. It had been staring her in the face all this time and she'd never caught on. It just did not make any sense.

Then again, not much about this entire situation made any sense.

As she finished her tale, Kitty's voice trailed off and the two women fell into silence for a time, she staring down into the murky depths of her rapidly cooling tea as Romany seemed to ponder everything that she'd just heard. When the older woman finally spoke, it was calm, business like, her face and voice betraying no emotion as she studied Kitty speculatively.

"All right, there's a couple of things I need you to do, Kit." As Kitty raised her eyes, looking across the room at the other woman inquiringly, Romany continued. "First of all, I'd like to take a look at these diaries you mentioned, since they seem to be playing a pretty significant role in all this. Once I get a look at them, well see which step comes next."

Nodding, Kitty carefully set her cup down on the coffee table and rose, going into the spare room just down the hall where they'd put her things when they'd arrived. Picking up one of her duffle bags and hefting it up onto the bed, she unzipped it and rummaged around inside, pulling out her laptop, her own written notes, the six diaries she had, plus the copy of the one Storm's team had.

Her arms full, she carried the items back into the small den. They soon had the computer set up on a small, wooden, tray table, the diaries and notes lying on an end table nearby as Romany settled back to being going through what Kitty already had.

She began walking the older woman through her data program and notes - instructing her on how everything worked, no how all the notes were organized - but Romany laid a hand gently on her arm, giving it a light squeeze, stopping her in mid-sentence.

"Don't worry about it, Kitty. I can puzzle it out. Why don't you go lie down for a spell? I'll be a while at this and you look positively knackered."

Almost automatically, Kitty started to protest, but then she took a second to reconsider. She was exhausted. She hadn't slept at all the night before and very little for days before that. Regardless of whether she wanted to or not, her body would eventually have to have rest or she would simply collapse. Already she felt drained, empty. She couldn't continue on as she was now.

With a somewhat reluctant nod, she gave in to the inevitable. "All right. I'll probably just have more dreams and nightmares, but I've got to sleep sometime. If you need anything, wake me, ok?"

Romany nodded absently, already absorbed in her work, as she made a shooing motion with her hand in Kitty's direction. With a weak grin, the slim brunette left her to it and headed back to the guest bedroom where she'd been only a few moments before.

Placing the duffle bag back on the floor with it's mate, she shed her robe, not even bothering with a nightshirt, and crawled under the covers.

Snuggling down into the soft mattress and cool sheets, Kitty closed her eyes and let her mind drift, clearing all thoughts from her head as she put herself into a light meditative state. It was a trick she'd learned long ago - from Logan, of course - to force herself to relax and sleep, even when she was too worried, or too hyped up, to do so otherwise.

Much more tired than she'd allowed herself to realize, it was only a few moments before her breathing became shallow and even and she not so much fell, as collapsed into sleep. The last conscious image that flashed through her mind was Peter's face, his words from only a few nights past echoing softly in her head. But it seemed like so much longer. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

_But promise me, if you need me, for anything, you will let me know._

_**Oh, God, Peter.....you have no idea how much I need you right now......but I can't bring you into this. No matter how much I want you with me. But I miss you. I miss you so much.**_

As consciousness finally left Kitty completely, another presence took physical form within the room. Sheathed in it's aura of incadescent light, the Soulsword hovered in the air, pulsing with power, as it considered the young woman it was bound to and decided that, if she were going to be able to finish this, then she was going to need all the help she could get. Though she was stubborn and would try to do it all alone, she couldn't. It was time to speed up the process a little.

Yes, the Soulsword could think, it could reason. It was sentient entity, a self-aware force, disembodied though it might be. Just as the others were. There would come a time when that would no longer be true, if things went as they should. But, for now, it was still a separate being, and an intelligent one.

But limits had been placed upon it's ability to communicate and it was bound by certain rules. There were things it could not do, was not allowed to do. Those restrictions were proving extremely inconvenient, to say the least.

It could not call out to the others, nor could they call to it. If they managed to come together, then the hosts would have to accomplish that largely on their own. It could not communicate with anyone other than whomever it was connected to. And, even then, the information it could pass was severely limited.

But, recently it had come to believe that it had found a loophole, albeit a small one, within the structures which bound it so tightly. One small access point had been overlooked, one small connection that wasn't considered fully when this all began, and that slight advantage might be the avenue with which to provide exactly the catalyst needed to start a chain reaction.

Perhaps now was the time to test the theory. If only it worked, it might make all the difference in the world. And it would be a move that Vargas could never predict.

Then again, it might not work at all. It could only try.

* * *

Hunting down and destroying Sentinels was, at any time, an extremely dangerous activity. Under the best of circumstances, it was something attempted by only the most powerful, and the most experienced, of fighters. After all, mutant powers were of extremely limited use against machines designed to specifically counteract those powers and destroy the mutants that possessed them. And the "Wild" Sentinels, such as those that had wrought havoc on Hammer Bay, were of a particularly vicious, hard to kill variety.

So, it was a supreme act of stupidity to track and engage said Sentinels in pitch dark, in the middle of the thick, tangled jungles of Ecuador.

Piotr Nikolevitch Rasputin, a member of the X-Men for very nearly half his life, knew this. He knew that to attempt such a thing was the height of recklessness and was also tantamount to signing one's own death warrant.

Right now, he couldn't possibly care less.

The last of the group of five Wild Sentinels he'd tracked lumbered out of the brush to his right, spouting the normal, monotonous line of **"Non-human entity determined. Execute". **And that phrase was truly beginning to grate on Peter's very last existing nerve.

As it raised it's....hand?....claw?....pinscher?....What **was** that appendage supposed to be, anyway?.....the repulsor ray glowing as it charged up and prepared to fire at him, Colossus muttered a rather explicit Russian curse at the thing and charged into it, full speed ahead.

He slammed into the torso with the force of a two ton pile driver, knocking it off it's feet and scattering a few odd and end pieces across the jungle floor as he tore into the offending robot.

In his armored form, as he was now, Colossus was nearly seven and a half feet tall and weighed well over five hundred pounds. He could bench press a Buick without even breaking a sweat. He could level entire buildings with little more than a single blow. He was almost unstoppable and very nearly invulnerable. There was so much that he could do with the power that had been at his disposal since he was an adolescent.

But, the one thing he couldn't do, despite all his strength, despite all his power, was hold onto the woman he loved. No matter how much he might want to help her in this journey through hell, both figuratively and literally, there was nothing he could do. And that made him very, very angry.

Peter took great pleasure in methodically ripping the crab-like Sentinel into small bits and pieces with his bare hands, scattering the various parts around the jungle floor without heed. He'd done the same to this one's brethren before it, and he would do the same to however many more he might be able to track down after it.

And he would keep doing it until one of them finally adapted enough to kill him or he collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Right at the moment, it mattered not in the least which might come first.

With a snarl of rage the likes of which had graced the young mans face only on the rarest of occasions, he tore the robot's head from it's body and proceeded to rend it in half, then each piece in half again, until the pieces were so small they couldn't be torn any more. With that accomplished, the headless machine flailed about aimlessly as he ripped into it's torso, pulling out wires, circuit's, whatever was handy that he could get his hands on, repeating the procedure of utter annihilation on whatever he could reach. If he couldn't take his anger and frustration out on the source, these things would suffice for the moment.

The sound of the blast reached Colossus' ears several moments after he was nearly thrown to the ground by the sheer, concussive force of the hit. Only a few feet away, a 30 ft tall Sentinel landed with a resounding thud and a "squark" of protest, face down on the jungle floor, sending up a shower of sparks and soil in it's wake as it crackled and fizzed, flailing about for a moment before going permanent still.

The smell of burning wires and electronic circuitry, mixing in with the rich smell of torn earth and vegetation, assailed him only seconds before he felt the electrostatic crackle of energy and the second massive bolt of lightning slammed down on his other side, barely three feet away. The second Sentinel, whose presence he'd also been unaware of, and which was only slightly smaller than the first, literally exploded on impact, raining burning wires and smoking metal down around him and igniting small, short lived fires in the verdant vegetation.

Quickly surging to his feet, Peter didn't even bother to look up to see where the sudden, otherworldly bolts of energy had come from. The sky was perfectly clear – not even the slightest sign of thunderclouds or adverse weather - and, besides, lightening strikes of that magnitude rarely, if ever, happened in nature. And almost never that close together.

No, he knew perfectly well who the responsible party was. And he knew why she was here. So, he simply stood, waiting, until Storm drifted out of the sky to land lightly in front of him.

She was angry. Very angry. Furious, actually. He could see it in the frenzied corona of energy coruscating around her, in the way her eyes – glowing white now as she wielded her power over nature – flashed sparks in his direction, in the set of her jaw and her ram-rod straight posture. Right now, there was nothing there of Ororo, she was every inch Storm.

The two mutants regarded one another in silence for long moments before the regal, imposing African woman strode purposefully forward to stand toe to toe with him, in no way intimidated by either his greater size or strength. Glaring up at him, her eyes narrowed dangerously as she placed her fist on her hips, her feet spread apart, her entire stance screaming blind, blazing, fury.

"Piotr Nikolevitch Rasputin," Ororo Munroe spat his name out like a curse, her the words hissed through clenched teeth as she sought to restrain the urge to summon the most massive bolt of lightning she possibly could and put him right back on the ground on his ass. Perhaps that would knock some much needed sense into him. "have you always been an imbecile and I simply did not notice until now? Or, have you suddenly developed a need to explore your inner idiot?"

Near his own breaking point, Peter's considerable temper, already present and accounted for, flared up another notch and Colossus glared back down at her just as angrily. "Storm, now is not the time. Go back to Genosha, before we both say or do something we will regret later."

Turning his back to her, he prepared to walk away, only to have her grab his arm in a surprisingly strong grip.

"You will not walk away from me, Peter. If you do, so help me, I will hit you with a bolt of lighting strong enough to render you unconscious for at least a week. In fact, I am already sorely tempted to do just exactly that. You are behaving like a child."

Shrugging out of her grip, the large man whirled around, towering over her menacingly. "Suit yourself, then, Wind Rider. But I came here for a purpose. One with which you are interfering. I thank you for your assistance, but I would rather do this alone. Now leave me be."

"Assistance?" The wind-rider's voice rose a notch and, overhead, thunder boomed out loud enough to shake the ground as the wind suddenly picked up to nearly gale strength. "Bright Lady, preserve me from stupid, stubborn men...." Though she was, she thought, inevitability surrounded by them.

Raising her face to the sky and closing her eyes, Ororo fought for control of both her emotions and the elements around her. One was inevitably affected by the other and if she didn't calm down, the entire area would soon be engulfed in a hurricane force gale. And she couldn't, in good conscience, punish the surrounding populace simply because this one young man was behaving like a lunatic.

Once she felt sufficiently capable to do so without flying into a screaming rage, she turned back to her long-time friend and took a deep, calming breath, trying to maintain an even, reasonable tone of voice.

"I have no idea what you believe you are doing out here, Peter.....other than perhaps committing suicide...." As the words left her mouth, it was as if a light suddenly went on inside her head, breaking through the anger and turning it to concern as her voice trailed off. Abruptly, Storm's face softened, her eyes reverting back to their normal ice blue, her stance relaxing as she looked up at the young man who had been the closest thing she'd had to a brother for the last fourteen years.

"Is that what you want, Peter? Is that what you believe that Kitty would want? For you to destroy yourself? Because, that is exactly what you are doing. Had I not found you when I did, you would have most certainly been injured, possibly killed. Those two Sentinels were standing almost on top of you, and you did not even notice. And I doubt very seriously that they were particularly quiet or stealthy in their approach. It is not like you, little brother, to be so careless."

"What does it matter, Ororo?" he asked, his voice filled with bitterness and grim, sorrowful resignation. "What is there left for me, now? She is gone because of these machines and I mean to destroy as many of them as I possibly can. If it is at the cost of my own life, so be it. Now, please, leave me."

Again, the big man turned to go, but he only made a few steps before Storm gave into her previous inclination and sent him slamming into the ground with a well placed, proverbial, bolt from the blue. Slightly dazed, Peter sat there, trying to shake off the effects of the sudden, rather disconcerting electrical overload.

When his head finally cleared, he looked up to find Ororo standing over him, as angry as he'd ever seen her in his entire life – and as frightened.

"Do you think you are the only one who loves her? Do you truly believe that the rest of us are not grieving, just as much as you are? That girl was like my own daughter. I damaged that relationship through my own selfish, stupid decisions and it has never been fully repaired. Now, I must live with the fact that it very well may never be, because I may never see her again."

She was furious; furious at Peter for seemingly believing that he had sole rights to grieve for the all too possible loss of a girl...a woman...that they all loved dearly; furious at herself for not making more of an effort to mend her relationship with Kitty when she had the chance; furious that she – that they – hadn't all been more observant, taken more of an active interest in the problems plaguing Kitty of late. Frankly, she was at her own breaking point. And Peter, at the moment, was pushing her past that point very quickly.

"Logan, Kurt, Amanda, Rhane, myself, Betsy, Rogue, Remy, Bobby.....all of us care about her, very deeply. Just as we care about you, Peter. And you are doing the very same thing that Kitty did. You are pushing us away, refusing the support and love of your family, just as she did. You expect us to sit back while you run off with the jet, fly out here and fight these Sentinels by yourself, in the dark, knowing full well that they may very well kill you in the process? Well, it is **not** going to happen. I refuse to lose you as well. And there is still hope for Kitty. We do not know...."

"**I** know." Peter cut in, his words holding an unshakable finality. Looking up at her, even in his changeform, Ororo could plainly see the grief, the almost overwhelming pain, eating away at him. And the heavy weight of resignation and acceptance of the inevitable, sitting on his heart like a stone.

"I have listened to Amanda and her theories concerning the Amulet and the Soulsword. And the bond between Illyana and Katya. I cannot argue that some of what she says makes sense. But I have also lived through this before. I lost my sister to this evil. I saw what it did to her, how it corrupted her, little by little, watched as her humanity slipped away from her day by day. I saw the same thing happening to Kitty, but I did not recognize it in time. Nor, would she allow me to help her when I did. Regardless of what Amanda may believe, I know that it is over. She is gone and there is nothing we can do to bring her back."

Saying it all out loud, actually hearing the words, seemed to make it all the more real. All the more final and irrevocable. In a moment, all the anger, all the rage, drained out of him, leaving him hollow, empty, and lost. Suddenly, inexpressibly weary, Peter allowed himself to transform from metal back into flesh and blood. His broad shoulders drooping, he let his head hang down, closing his eyes as he fought the urge to simply lie down and wait for the next Sentinel that might pass by.

How was he supposed to get through this? How was he supposed to weather yet another loss in his life? He had no family left. They were all long gone. He had hoped to have the chance to make a family for himself again, but all hope of that was gone now as well. His heart was as broken as it could possibly be, damaged beyond repair. What use was there in pretending there was anything left for him.

A slim, soft hand cupped his chin, skin the color of café-au-lait, as Ororo knelt in front of him. Her eyes were blue again, with their exotic, elongated iris', like those of a cat, as she peered down at him. Without actually raising his head, he looked up at her through his dark lashes, meeting her gaze.

"She is not dead, Peter." she told him softly.

"Perhaps it would be better if she were." he replied, speaking so quietly that she could barely hear him over the night noises of the surrounding jungle. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed by all that was happening. And just as obvious that he was at the point of giving in, of accepting that things would not get better, that Kitty was lost to them for good.

"No," With a slight shake of her head, the motion barely even rustling the mane of silver hair falling around her shoulders and back, Storm dismissed the idea. "I will not believe that. And neither should you. By now you should know that anything is possible, that we can prevail, no matter the odds. We have done it time and time again. I see no reason we cannot do it this time. We owe it to Kitty to at least try."

Ororo waited, wondering if her words would have any effect on him at all, wondering if there was anything that she could say to him, after all that he had endured, that would restore even an iota of hope for him to hold onto. She understood fully exactly how difficult it was to hold onto that hope in the face of such odds. It was something she struggled with herself. But she was determined not to give up. It wasn't in her nature. She was sincerely hoping that it wasn't in Peter's either.

Finally, the young Russian raised his head, his dark blue eyes searching her own, searching her face, looking for something, anything, to grab onto, to give him a reason to continue on. He found it in her solid, unwavering faith, in her conviction that all was not lost, that there still was hope for a resolution. That Kitty might return to them, whole, unharmed, herself. Perhaps, if she could believe, then he could as well.

With a sigh, he nodded, and she stood, holding out her hand to him. He took it, levering himself up into a standing position as they faced one another.

"I am not so optomistic as you, Ororo. Perhaps it is my Russian heritage that tends toward brooding...I do not know. But, I hope, I pray, that you are right."

"I have faith that I am, indeed, right," his long-time friend told him, her lips curving the slightest bit at the corners as she slid her arm around his waist, leading him back toward the jet he had arrived in. "Besides, you do not know everything, yet. Come. On our return trip, I will tell you what I learned when I left Sage at Muir Island. We are not, it seems, the only ones searching for Kitty. They have had a rather surprising visitor today......."

* * *

He was in pain. That, in itself, would not have been a terribly unusual thing for most people. For him, however, it was almost unheard of. He couldn't even remember the last time someone had managed to actually, physically, injure him.

But, he had allowed himself to be caught by surprise, something else that hadn't happened to him in untold ages. He hadn't known of, or planned for, the interference of that cursed metal warrior. He'd believed him to be safely away, separated from the girl.

Now, because of his own lack of preparation, the girl had called the sword, had merged with it, before he could bind her to him. It was a setback, but it was not the end. Time was on his side. There was no hope of her connecting with the others. They were long gone, beyond her reach. She had, once again, foolishly left the one person who might have been able to protect her.

And, there was, of course, still the Amulet to consider. It still held influence over her, influence that he could use to his advantage. The sword would be his, one way or another, before this thing ended. Time was growing shorter with each passing day, and soon they would reach the end of this saga begun so very long ago.

At last, he would be free and, with the help of the Soulsword and the Beatrice Amulet, he would attain the dream that he'd worked toward for so very long. Not only would this world be his, but every other world in existence as well. And the girl could make her choice, join with him freely and rule by his side, or have her soul consigned forever to torment as he destroyed every one and everything that she held dear.

Vargas turned from the wide, picture window and the sprawling view of the city below, wincing at the sudden movement that pulled at his bruised, cracked ribs. Irritated with himself at this show of weakness, he pushed the pain from his mind, forcing it back into a dark corner, where it would trouble him no more. For the moment.

As always, his servants stood only a few feet away, attentive and alert, ready to receive and obey his orders at a moment's notice. Scrutinizing them, Vargas decided that he liked them much better in these guises, much as he liked himself much better in his own. The horrific had it's purpose and it had often served him well, but he much preferred the pleasing, the beautiful, whenever possible. It made walking in this world, among these cattle, much easier.

Inevitably, thoughts of beauty brought him, once again, to the books. Picking up the correct volume, he thumbed through it, easily finding the familiar page, one he had spent long hours studying, committing to memory.

And, there they were, their youth, beauty, and innocence preserved on the page, their faces exactly as they had been so very long ago. They had tried so very hard to do what had been required of them, but they had failed. That failure had cost them their souls, had condemned them to an eternity of trying to correct those mistakes.

**_Such a waste, _**he mused, his index finger trailing over the page, tracing the curve of a damask cheek, the sweep of a delicate brow. **_To sacrifice such youth, such beauty, such potential, to a fight they had no hope of winning. To fight so long and hard, only to be defeated in the final hour. And what has their sacrifice earned them? Their tale, their very existence, is lost to time, remembered only in vague legends and myths of civilizations long dead, dismissed as whimsical tales to amuse the ignorant. _**

Closing the book once more, he returned his attention to his servants, smiling in wicked enjoyment once more at their forms. Tall, strong, human, male and female. It suited them, though he knew they were less than pleased with the results themselves. But their feelings did not concern him in the least. They were here to serve him, nothing more.

"Begin the preparations. In a few days, when I am fully healed, we will commence the final chapter in this long odyssey. And, at long last, with the wielder of the sword by my side and the power of the Nexxus at my command, we will ascend to the glorious destiny that awaits us."

With silent, almost identical bows, Thais and Thaiis – for those were their names now, for the present – turned and strode away toward the doors leading to the villa's lower levels and the tasks that awaited them there.

As soon as they were out of sight, Vargas once again picked up the diary he'd been thumbing through before, taking it to a large, overstuffed easy chair, upholstered in butter soft tan leather. Lowering himself gingerly into the seat, the strange man again leafed through the pages, light from the large picture window behind him providing more than ample illumination as the sun streamed in and the city of Valencia spread out toward the horizon.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there it is. Hope it wasn't too disappointing. The next couple of chapters will probably be rather similar as there's a lot of stuff that needs doing to set the stage for the next major confrontation. Gradually, we'll be getting all our major characters in the same place at the same time for the final battle. And, for any of you who are not familiar with Romany Wisdom (which wouldn't be surprising, since she's only made a grand total of two or three appearances in the comics) she is Pete's older sister and she is very well versed in all things occult, but one particular area of expertise was of special interest to me, which is why I really wanted to use her in this fic. You'll understand more fully as things progress.

**To All My Wonderful, Incredible Reviewers: **I've really got to thank all you guys again for hanging in there with me. If you hadn't, I probably would have dropped the whole thing in absolute disgust and frustration with this chapter. Thanks again.

**B: **Well, I hope that was a good "oh". ;) And not a 'what the crap??' "oh".

**Brainfear:** Eh, torture around here is never short lived, but things will get better. Eventually. Hopefully, within the next couple of chapters, we'll be getting our two favorite victims back in the same place permanently.

**T.A. Pixiestix: **(ducks flying projectiles) I truly apologize for the deception, but, as you know by now, that wasn't Pete. For the purposes of this fic, as far as our characters know anyway, Pete is dead. I already have an outline for a sequel, if I live through this one, where that may change. But, I'm afraid he won't be showing up in this one. I rather like the annoying sod, too, but I just couldn't find a place for him in this story. In the comics, it is debatable whether he's still alive or not, but everyone there still thinks he's dead. There is some reason to believe that he didn't actually die, though. On the up side, thought we didn't see Logan in this chapter, we did get a little time with Piotr.

**Gypsy: **Glad you liked the Illyana/Rachel come backs. I've had those particular scenes planned from the beginning and I rather liked how they turned out. Rachel Summers and Illyana Rasputin are particular favorites of mine and I'm glad to see that Marvel has finally decided to bring at least one of them back into the X-Men full time. They truly do have a lot of potential.

**I Heart the Distillers (aka Evanescence Kicks Ass): **There you are! I'd wondered what had happened to you. Missed ya and I'm glad you're back. I completely sympathize with your computer problems. I have become convinced that Microsoft and Windows are actually evil plots by Sinister to take over the world. Really glad you enjoyed the chapter, especially the return of two of my favorite characters and the little scene at Pete's grave. By now, you all know that was Pete's older sister, Romany. Who is another very interesting character and one very versed in all things strange and occult. And it just warms heart any time I can have somebody give Emma Frost a good whack.

**Kirayoshi: **Yes. I admit it. I do like to make Kitty cry. I just can't help it. Didn't quite get to Master Mold this time, but our favorite angry Russian managed to trash a few more Sentinels. We'll get to Master Mold in the next chapter or so. As you've seen, Illyana doesn't quite know what to make of Gambit, Rogue and this whole situation, just as Rachel is reeling from everything that she's learned. We've got to give them a little time to sort things out. This is most definitely the calm before the storm. I did change the ending of this chapter, yet again, from my last intent. That scene will have to wait another chapter or so. Much as I wanted to do it now, it just didn't work.

**Darkstorm5000: **Glad you enjoyed chapter 17. Illyana probably would have done some truly horrible things to Emma if Gambit and Rogue hadn't showed up when they did. I loved Rachel and Illyana and, given their close ties to Kitty, I just had to use them in this. I've probably finished resurrecting the dead, now, but there are still a few surprises up my sleeve before this is all done. Glad you liked the chapter length. The next several are probably going to be similar. Mainly because I've got so much stuff to research for each one now. Fun.

**Lia Fail: **Glad you like the reappearance of Rachel and Illyana. I definitely share the Yana love and I believe that she's one of the few "dead" Marvel characters that could be brought back in a truly believable way. And I had to have somebody hit Emma. It was just a compulsion. I had to be done. UXM 303 always makes me cry, too. As does 304. Illyana now knows, of course, that she's not in the wrong dimension. But, she's not sure if that might not be even worse. Didn't really mean to make you cry, but, since you keep doing it to me, I figured it's a trade off. ;)

**Wordmad: **Thanks for lurking and I'm glad you're enjoying the fic. I'm enjoying writing it, for the most part. Even if it does put up a real fight on occasion. Just makes things more interesting. We will have resolution, eventually, but I tend to make our heroes really work for it. Hopefully, when it comes, though, it'll have been worth the wait.

**RandomReader: **Hey, I'm right there in dork land with you, because I was tearing up while I was writing it. I cry regularly over fictional comic characters. And, trust me, there are others out there, too. We're in good company. And, by now, you also know that we will not be dealing with Pete in this story. Just a relative and some memories. He's a fun guy, but just didn't have anywhere to put him in here. It's good to get a few of Kitty's "dead" friends back into the mix and I'm really looking forward to putting them all together again. They'll be much happier that way.

**Revenaught: **Now, really....do you think I'd seriously kill off everybody's favorite dragon? But, without that, how else would I get that nice Magneto moment into the fic? Besides, what's Kitty without Lockheed? Peter will get more than one chance to be that Guardian Warrior you spoke of. He's already taking out his frustration on several hapless Sentinels. We should get to the major Master Mold battle within the next couple of chapters. Hope you continue to enjoy the fic. Kitty and Peter have been my favorites for over 20 years as well and I'm glad to know there are so many other fans out there, too.

* * *

Coming Soon: Chapter 19. We'll learn a little more about Destiny's Diaries, the Beatrice Amulet, Vargas and all these connections. We'll be seeing a little more of the mystery revealed in the form of dreams. And they'll be targeting more than just Kitty this time. Hope to see you there.


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